


It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

by Demonspit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, everyone is happy cause damnit they deserve it, people die but its okay i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 42,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28035834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonspit/pseuds/Demonspit
Summary: It was over.Chuck was defeated, all the people he had snapped out of existence were back and it was finally over.So why did Dean feel like crap?a Supernatural post 15x19 fix it fic because that finale just wasn't it.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A series finale has to be real bad to get my lazy ass to sit down and write 40k words.  
> i wanted to apologize for the fact that my writing isn't that good considering i haven't written a lot of fanfic and have never written a story this long but then i realized they let that shitshow of a final episode air so, yeah, i really don't have any reason to feel sorry.
> 
> So here you go. My version of the Supernatural series finale that I hope does the characters we've all come to love justice because damnit, they deserve to be happy.  
> Enjoy.
> 
> Title borrowed from the R.E.M. song. if you don't know it, go have a listen. it's awesome.

It was over.

Chuck was defeated, all the people he had snapped out of existence were back and it was finally over.

After they’d said their goodbyes to Jack, Sam and Dean had driven back to the bunker and drunk the obligatory beer to celebrate their win together. It felt good to know it was over but it seemed wrong to both of them that only two seats of the table were filled. Well, two seats at the table and one on the floor considering Dean hadn’t been able to leave Miracle the dog behind and just whistled to him to come jump into the backseat of the Impala while he ignored Sam’s incredulous laughter.

Sitting at the table in the library Dean soon noticed his brother getting antsy across the table and glancing at his phone. The first thing he’d done of course was check up on Eileen to make sure that she was back and safe.

“Dude, come on, just go. I know you want to. Go get your happy end,” Dean smirked at him over his beer bottle.

Sam shot him his signature bitch face but dropped it quick and sighed. “I do but I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

At that Dean bristled. “What do you mean? I don’t care. I like being alone. After the week we’ve had? I just wanna take a long, hot shower and fall straight into bed.” Dean tried to give Sam a nonchalant shrug but he knew he couldn’t convince his brother that he was fine.

_Distraction and deflection it is, then._

The older Winchester got up, leaving the bottle on the table, reaching over the table to grab Sam’s out of his hand and letting it join his own.

“What are you-“ Sam started but was interrupted by Dean pulling him out of his seat by his arms.

“Come on then, Sasquatch. If you’re not going willingly I’ll force you. We’re gettin’ you to Eileen right now. I’m not accepting anything else.”

Sometimes you just had to force people into their luck.

So that’s how the brothers ended up in front of Eileen’s house. Dean had insisted to actually escort him to the door if only to see with his own eyes that Sam’s girlfriend was safe.

The door opened and Eileen’s mouth opened in obvious surprise at the visitors. “Sam?”

But before she could say anything else she had her arms full with the tall man, limbs flying everywhere. Dean rolled his eyes. You should think he’s been in possession of those long enough to actually have some semblance of control over them.

Deciding not to disturb them any longer Dean clapped Sam on the arm still wrapped around Eileen, gave Eileen a wide smile that she returned in kind as best as she could while being smothered and turned back to the Impala sitting on the curb. As he slid into the driver’s seat he yelled a quick “Sammy, don’t suffocate your girlfriend!” chuckled at the sight and put Baby in Drive.

As he pulled away in the direction of the bunker Dean watched his brother kiss his girlfriend passionately in the rearview mirror and had to swallow something that felt a little too much like jealousy for his liking.

_At least one of us gets a happy ending._

Back home Dean threw himself into checking up on everybody; calling some, texting others just to make sure all his friends were back, safe and sound.

Yawning he turned off the lights in the war room and walked to his room, Miracle at his foot and phone in hand.

_Just got off the phone with Jody. The girls, her and Donna are all good as well. So don’t worry and just have a good night. Oh, and don’t forget to use protection!_

Shooting off the last update to his brother, Dean for once didn’t even get to taking his clothes off or turning off the lights. The past couple days and their heavy exhaustion finally catching up to him, he just fell onto his bed and was out like a light within seconds.

The next day didn’t leave room for much introspective either given that Sam had apparently invited everyone over for the mandatory “Hey, we survived the apocalypse! … Again!” party without giving Dean a heads up, only telling him about it when he came back home with Eileen in the afternoon, which left Dean to speed walk through the grocery store, picking up food and booze for all their friends while cursing Sam under his breath. Returning to the bunker he had to scramble to get the burgers on the grill before anyone arrived.

He made it in the end. Of course he did, if there’s one thing Dean Winchester was good at, it was burgers and he wanted everyone to know that.

So that was how Dean found himself leaning against the wall in the war room observing the crowd that had accumulated over the course of the evening.

Sam and Eileen stuck close to each other the whole time, neither moving more than two feet away even when talking to people.

Donna and Jody sat at the table nursing their beers and throwing their heads back with laughter at whatever was happening in the hunting story Bobby was telling.

Charlie and Stevie were deep into conversation with none other than Rowena who had showed up at some point with the demand to be filled in on what the hell had happened topside and then promptly forcing Sam to go get her a glass of wine.

They’d invited Adam over as well but he’d declined. He was still struggling to adjust to life without Michael riding shotgun and had said he’d need some time for himself. Sam made him promise to call them if he needed anything at all. Seemed like Dean wasn’t the only one missing an angel.

Claire, Kaia and Alex were roping anyone passing by them into a round of poker with them which had led to several of the Apocalypse World refugees losing a ton of money to them because Dean knew for a fact Claire wasn’t playing fair…

Speaking of the blonde, Dean stood up straight so he could let his eyes trail over all the people in the room. Where had Claire gone anyway?

His question was answered when after a second the speakers which had been programmed to play a playlist of only classic rock – as they should, in Dean’s humble opinion – began blaring _Wannabe_ by the Spice Girls. Don’t ask him how he knew the song. Sam had a habit of playing bad ‘90s pop in the mornings to annoy Dean. The man’s face turned dark with a frown as he marched to the audio system propped up on the other side of the room, barely getting a glance at Claire’s grinning face before her blonde ponytail disappeared into the hallway, pulling Kaia after her.

“I’ll deal with you later, Posh Spice!” Hey, if he had to listen to the crap music, he might as well make it an insult.

He rolled his eyes at the answer Claire yelled back at him, “I don’t even look like Victoria Beckham!”

Dean looked after her for a moment. She put on a brave face for the outside world but he knew she was hurting a lot over Castiel’s death. Earlier he’d caught her in the kitchen downing gulps of whiskey straight from the bottle she must’ve found lying around – it wasn’t like alcohol was hard to come by in the Winchesters’ household after all.

When Claire had noticed Dean watching her, she’d looked up with a forlorn look on her face and had raised the bottle, exclaimed “To Castiel” in a bitter voice and knocked back some more of the drink. Dean hadn’t been able to argue with her.

The hunter sighed and continued to stare around the room. Miracle was sure having one hell of a time, flitting around people’s legs and collecting head scritches from everyone. Dean smiled at that. Who’d have thought they’d get a dog out of defeating Chuck?

His face hurt. He’d been smiling the whole evening, talking to people as if everything was fine. Celebrating the epic win they just secured and sharing everyone’s happiness. Dean was happy of course. How could he not be? They were free now. Free of Chuck’s influence, free of having to fight for their lives. Well, until the next apocalypse of course.

But there’s a strain to the grins and a heavy feeling in his chest every time he laughed at someone’s jokes.

“Quite the turnout, huh?” Somehow Dean had ended up next to his brother without noticing. Looking up and seeing Sam with Eileen hanging off his arm, the heavy weight disappeared for a second. He was genuinely happy for Sam. Seeing the way he’d reacted when they got to Eileen’s house and found her phone and bag on the floor – Dean didn’t know how to get the heartbroken look off his brother’s face and that had terrified him. But now here they both were, smiling widely at him.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head a little. “Yup, nothin’ gets people goin’ quite as much as a ‘Hey, we didn’t die! Again! Beer and burgers on us!’”

Laughing, Sam took a swig of his bottle. “’Also, sorry for kinda being the reason God wanted to kill everyone in the first place. Won’t do it again, promise!’”

Chuckling, Dean’s eyes fell to Eileen. “You doin’ good? Can I get you another burger?”

Eileen smiled up at her boyfriend’s brother, shaking her head. “No, thanks. I’m good. I’ve already eaten three. I’m gonna explode if I have any more.”

Pointing at her Dean looked at Sam with wide eyes. “See? That’s how a normal person eats, Sammy. Not the rabbit food you call dinner!”

Sam just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “It’s healthy, Dean. Wouldn’t kill you to eat some every once in a while either. Your body probably throws a party every time a vitamin swims by on accident.”

Dean walked backwards towards the hallway, gesturing vaguely with his bottle and making an exaggerated grimace that’s supposed to mimic Sam’s. “Whatever, bitch. I’m gonna get another beer. I know I throw a party any time _that_ swims by!”

With that Dean turned around and disappeared around the corner.

Upon noticing Sam’s unmoving figure, Eileen looked up into his face. Freeing her hands from him, she signed, “Is he okay?”

Sam sighed heavily before replying, “Cas didn’t come back. He always takes that real hard. This time though, it seems… worse.”

Both now stared at the doorway wearing concerned faces.

In the hallway Dean let his mask fall as soon as he was out of sight from the guests. Stopping a few feet away from the kitchen he leaned on the tiled wall with one hand, rubbing the other over his face, shoulders slumped in defeat. Any hint of a smile had disappeared as soon as he had turned his back to the war room. Instead of entering the kitchen to get another drink as he’d told Sam he would, he passed right by it. He had no plans of going back out there.

If someone asked where he went tomorrow, he’d just blame the alcohol and say he needed to lie down. Not like anyone was going to believe that – rarely having been sober at all in 35 years that was a shitty excuse even for Dean. He just didn’t care anymore.

Dean stopped in his tracks as he realized where his feet had led him.

To his right the door wore the sign of room 7B.

He didn’t turn, didn’t move, just stood there frozen, with a sort of shell-shocked expression, as he stared blankly into the hallway. He desperately didn’t want to think about it. Everything in Dean’s body screamed at him to move, to get away from there but he just couldn’t. His legs didn’t listen to him anymore.

Suddenly he saw Castiel’s blue eyes in front of him. “ _I made a deal_.”

No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. Dean shuddered and tried to force the memories out of his head.

“ _I cared about the whole world because of you_.”

He squeezed his eyes shut to no avail, Castiel’s face still hovering in front of him. Tears slipped down his cheeks now without him noticing, too caught up in trying to regain control.

“ _You changed me, Dean_.”

As his lungs started to burn, Dean realized he hadn’t taken a breath since he stopped moving and gasped, his eyes flying open.

“ _I love you_.”

As if there was electricity surging through his body Dean abruptly took a step forward and then another and soon he was running towards his bedroom. Away from that room and away from the memories.

The slamming of the door resounded loudly in the halls of the bunker. Hands and forehead pressed hard into the wood of the door Dean struggled to retain his composure.

After a few seconds he realized it was a lost cause so instead he turned to his nightstand to indulge in his favourite coping mechanism – alcohol.

Bringing the bottle to his lips, head tipped back, Dean belatedly noticed that the whiskey was empty. He made a frustrated noise as he threw it on the bed and ran both hands through his hair, tugging on it until he could feel the sharp pain.

He stepped over to his desk to snatch up the scotch biding his time there. Still a third of the bottle left. Score.

Among the mess on the surface, between books and notes and pens, his eyes fell on a picture staring up at him. It was a picture Dean had taken of him and Castiel, dressed up in their FBI outfits, wearing the cowboy hats. Of course Dean had talked the angel into taking a selfie with him. The opportunity to play dress up as a cowboy needed to be commemorated after all.

The memory made him smile fondly. Dropping his voice a ridiculous amount to imitate his best friend’s gruff voice, he quietly quoted, “I’m your huckleberry.” Castiel had sounded so serious when he had said it that it made Dean chuckle.

Then he remembered that was the first case they’d taken on after Castiel had returned from the Empty. He hastily turned away from the photo, stumbling a bit in the process and hitting the opening of the glass bottle against his teeth with a loud click.

Taking it away again in favour of rubbing a hand down his face, Dean dropped down and sat on the floor at the bottom of his bed, his knees brought up to his chest, shoulders slumped as if a heavy weight was holding them down.

Finally bringing the scotch to his mouth, he decided to make it worth it and swallowed big gulps, ignoring the slight burn in his throat as it went down. In fact he appreciated it. Any pain gave him a distraction however short it may be.

Letting the hand holding the alcohol drop down to his knees, Dean ran a hand over his face again, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and index finger.

He was just so tired. He just wanted to sleep and forget about everything but he had the slight expectation that he wouldn’t be able to get any shuteye that night.

Again he just stared into space – this was becoming a habit, wasn’t it – and waited for the alcohol to show any effect. Not that it had much anymore. He’d kinda ruined that by depending on it as a real healthy coping mechanism for a good two thirds of his life.

Thinking back to all the people hanging around the war room, Dean heaved a sigh. He desperately wanted to be happy that they won, that everyone was back. He _was_ happy about that, he truly was and he wanted to be out there with the others, celebrating another averted end of the world. Shame and frustration wreaked havoc in his mind that he couldn’t.

Truth of the matter was not everyone was back.

So how could he truly be happy?

The choice of words his thoughts chose made Dean flinch.

“ _I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be? What my true happiness could even look like?_ ”

_No. Not again._

Taking a shallow breath Dean scrunched up his face, tried to push the memory out of his mind but to no avail. He didn’t want to hear the words again but Castiel’s whole monologue had burned itself into Dean’s brain, so deep that no amount of alcohol would ever get it out of there. Not that that would stop him from trying. Hard. He gulped down another mouthful of scotch.

“ _The one thing I want … It’s something I know I can’t have_.”

Setting the bottle down hard on the floor, Dean buried his face in his hands.

“How would you have known, Cas?” The question came out muffled through his fingers. “How would you have known that you can’t have it? _I_ didn’t even know! Damnit, you idiot. Why would you even make a deal like that?”

He brought the bottle up again, muttering into the glass. “’When you’re truly happy.’ What, so this whole – Our little… Family didn’t make you happy? That what this is about?” Dean scoffed before drinking again. He knew it wasn’t what this was about at all but oh well it’s something he could get angry about and as everyone knew, Dean Winchester’s second most favourite healthy coping mechanism was anger.

As soon as he thought that, the angel’s voice weaselled its way into Dean’s brain again.

“ _You think that hate and anger, that’s what drives you. That’s who you are. It’s not_.”

He dropped his head again, staring unseeing into his lap.

“Why – Why would you even say that, all that crap. It’s not fair, Cas!” Dean’s voice rose in volume. Leaving the bottle behind on the floor, he got up and paced around the room in small circles, not being able to stay still any longer. “Why would you say that to me, make up a whole goddamn speech, right after announcing that dumbass deal with this dumbass entity and then… and then just…”

Tugging on his hair again, he felt himself become more agitated every second. Eyes darting around the room without taking anything in, he swallowed around the lump in his throat. Abruptly, he flung a hand out, balled into a fist, wincing slightly as his knuckles connected with the solid wall, hard. He stood there for a while, his hand throbbing as it rested where it landed.

A few moments later his body just deflated. His shoulders folded in on themselves. He continued, quieter now. “And then saying that other crap?” He couldn’t bring himself to address Castiel’s declaration any more precisely, scared of opening up that can of worms.

“I didn’t… I didn’t even have time to process the fact that you were freakin’ killing yourself there, man. Let alone…” He started pacing again, the hurting hand coming up to his neck to rub harshly. He could feel his anger rising again but his voice seemed to have stopped cooperating. The hunter wanted to shout, yell and scream but his voice barely came out as a whisper. In the quiet of his room it still seemed too loud to acknowledge any of this after so many years of repressing and deflecting.

“I didn’t even know you could feel that way, Cas. You’re an angel, I didn’t know you could feel – I didn’t even know angels could feel … feel love on this level, how was I supposed to know?” Dean knew he was rambling now but once he started, he couldn’t stop it. Years and years of ignoring the pain, he now finally let himself feel it and there was no turning back. He’d reached the point of no return and promptly threw himself over it.

“All this time I didn’t – I couldn’t let myself think of- of anything more. I didn’t allow myself to even entertain the idea because … Well, you’re a freakin’ angel! What’s a stupid human like me in comparison? And a fucking broken one at that! And then when – just when I kinda came around to it, when I was ready to just say fuck it and tell you in Purgatory, you didn’t let me finish and when we got back, it was just one shitshow after the other and I barely had any time to breathe, let alone figure out my feelings.

And of course the whole thing with Chuck didn’t help. Announcing everything we’ve ever done wasn’t even us, but him? That we never had any choice? I figured my feeling didn’t matter anyway. Or yours, for that matter. Right until – right until he told us he never had any control over you. And suddenly your speech, that whole ‘We’re real’ thing, it felt … Well, real.”

Dean stopped to take a couple breaths, realizing he’d started shaking. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I never got to even think about it all properly ‘cause everything happened so fast and now you’re gone and this isn’t how it was supposed to go, Castiel!”

He hadn’t realized he’d started shouting again. Throwing a glance back at the door, he half expected someone to hear him and come to find him screaming at the wall. They’d think he’d finally lost his marbles. _They wouldn’t exactly be wrong, now, would they?_ Dean thought with a humourless chuckle.

He shrugged it off and rambled on, fists clenched tight, fingernails digging into his palms, uncomfortable pressure where his knuckles had met the wall.

“You can’t just drop that on a guy and then dip, Cas! That’s not how this works! That’s not how _any_ of this works! You didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye, let alone say…”

 _Say it back_ , he thought but couldn’t speak it out loud. Because that would make it real and he couldn’t let it be real. Not without…

The anger rushing out of him as fast as it had come, Dean now just felt empty. He could kill monsters and demons and save people but when it came to the one person he needed to save, he couldn’t.

As he stared at the shotguns hanging on his wall, a thought popped into his head at that.

Suddenly he remembered who he was.

He’s Dean Winchester. He’s Dean Freaking Winchester who’s killed Death, and then Hitler, and then Death, again. And God! Goddamn freaking God! Well, he didn’t kill him and it was more of a group effort to be honest, but still. It’s about the matter of principle.

He could have killed Chuck. He would have, too. He had been this close to doing so before Castiel’s voice popped into his head – like it’s been doing so often these days – and gently told him _No_. Because apparently that’s not who he was. Dean Winchester was not a person who’s driven by anger. By hate. By rage.

He’d thought he was. Still thought so but Dean was doing his damnedest to believe the angel.

It’s honestly the least he could do after the angel sacrificed himself for Dean. Again. How many times was that now? He couldn’t recall. What a fucked up thing that this kinda thought was normal in the Winchester household.

The least thing Dean could do was try to be the man Castiel saw in him.

The man who acted out of love.

Dean’s face, wet from tears he couldn’t remember shedding, changed. Where once grief sat heavily in the lines of his skin, determination now resided.

His shoulders rose and he stood up straighter.

A man with a plan.

A man who acted out of love.

Before he could even think this through, Dean turned on his heels and marched back through the halls of the bunker, not bothering to turn off the lights or close the door to his room.

He knew what he had to do, now.

His route didn’t take him past the war room. He’d seen enough of Sammy’s worried little glances this week, thank you very much.

Through the bunker’s garage he left the building quickly, walking through the grass until he stood in the middle of the field next to the bunker.

To be honest, he didn’t really know why he’d come out here. He could’ve done this just as well in his room but this seemed more fitting. Don’t tell Sam, but Dean did like chick flicks and the occasional dramatic moment and this felt like it ought to be one.

For some reason Castiel saw a man in Dean who acted out of love. So out of love Dean would act.

“Jack! I know you’re listening and I don’t care that you wanna be hands off! Get your feathered ass down here this instant or you ain’t gettin’ a Christmas card!” Dean yelled at the top of his lungs at the night sky, thousands of stars glittering above him. As he glanced around, nothing changed. Just a lonely hunter, standing there in the cold breeze, screaming at nothing but the dying grass to his feet.

“Jack, I mean it. I need your help and you know it’s important, I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise!”

Dean meant this, too. He was speaking the truth here. After all they’d been through – after all these years of being the punching bag to all these powerful forces, after having to deal with Azazel, with Lilith, Lucifer, the Leviathan, Abaddon, Metatron, Michael, then God?

Dean got it. Dean agreed with the hands off approach. He approved of it. Power in the wrong hands was never good and as much as he didn’t think Jack would turn dark side anytime soon, he agreed that taking himself out of the equation might have been a good idea.

But right now, there was one task Dean couldn’t do alone.

“Jack, you know what I’m talking about. I owe it to him, Jack. We all do!”

The hunter could barely finish his sentence before finally he heard the familiar fluttering of invisible wings behind himself.

For a second Dean allowed himself a relieved smile before he turned around to take in the form of Jack, one hand raised in his awkward little wave.

“Hello, Dean.”

After smiling at Jack for a moment in greeting, he immediately delved into explaining his request, knowing all too well the nephilim might disappear at any given moment.

Man, he remembered feeling this way with Castiel and secretly being just the slightest bit glad when he couldn’t flit away all the time. Immediately after thinking this, Dean frowned at himself, feeling ashamed to even think this.

Shaking it off, he started to ramble for another time this night. At least this time there was actually someone listening.

“Thanks for showin’ up, buddy. Look, I know you said you wouldn’t meddle and I get it, I do but I can’t let just Cas rot in the Empty. He sacrificed himself for me, for all of us really. We wouldn’t have been able to defeat Chuck with Billie still on our heels and you know it. We gotta at least try and get him outta there.” Taking a deep breath, Dean stopped staring at somewhere over Jack’s shoulder to look him in the eyes. “I have to try, Jack. I have to at least try.” He trailed off at the end, his voice getting more desperate every second. He was aware of the moisture his eyes were shining with but he couldn’t find it in himself to care right now.

He could only look at Jack with pleading eyes. If he had to, he would get to his knees to beg.

Anything to get his angel back.

Jack stared at Dean with something in his eyes that from any other person Dean would have assumed it was pity. But he knew Jack too well to see anything but kindness and genuine sorrow.

“I know, Dean. I’m not happy about this either, believe me. But I have no power in the Empty.” Sadness joined kindness and sorrow.

Dean pointed a finger at him accusingly, stepping closer. “You’ve brought him back before! You can do it again!”

He deflated when Jack shook his head slowly and looked at his shoes as he answered. “When I absorbed Chuck’s power, I guess I also inherited the inability to control anything there. I’ve tried, it’s the first thing I did after bringing everyone back, believe me.” Jack wore a bitter expression as he wrung his hands in frustration. “I tried and tried but it doesn’t work. It’s like there’s this… This wall now that I can’t break through. I even got Amara to try but she can’t get to the Empty either.”

Jack looked up at Dean again and all of a sudden he looked like the 3 year old lost little boy that he was.

With a jolt Dean remembered that this wasn’t just another powerful God. Well, he was, technically but before all that, way before that, Jack was also just a kid. A kid with way too much responsibility on his shoulders. A kid who never got to _be_ a kid because he’d been thrown into chaos and destruction and murder even quicker than Dean had been all those years ago.

All the fight left Dean at the realization that Jack reminded him so much of himself at that moment.

A kid who’d just lost a parent and had barely even been given time to grieve before a weight way too heavy and way too much to bear alone had been thrust at him.

Somewhere along the way Dean had forgotten that.

He rubbed a hand across his mouth and stepped towards Jack, put a hand on his shoulder and ducked his head to look Jack in the eyes, taking in the surprised expression.

“Jack, I’m sorry. I know you did everything you could. Cas was your dad after all. And you probably haven’t even had a chance to breathe yet, have you?”

Jack looked up at Dean hesitantly like he wasn’t sure what to say so Dean just kept going.

“Listen, I do agree with the whole lonesome wolf God kinda thing but you’re still…” Dean hesitated but then decided that screw this, the boy deserved to hear it. “You’re still our kid. And I know you’ve been closest with Cas and I know you and I didn’t get off on the best start and there’s a lot of issues I haven’t dealt with but those are on me. Those are mine to figure out and while I do that, you will always have a family here. With me and with Sam. Your room didn’t come with the condition that Cas was here. It’s your home as well. And you can always come back here after you’ve done your God business.”

Dean squeezed Jack’s shoulder and smiled gently at him while the boy rubbed tears away.

“You really mean that?” he asked with scrunched up eyebrows.

Dean felt a pang of regret at having made Jack feel doubts about this.

“I do. I know Sam would love to have you around.” Dean’s smile turned into a wide grin. “He’s found some new smoothie blog and is just dying to experiment those recipes on someone. Not even Eileen will be sweet talked into it. Apparently even her love has limits.” Dean chuckled and shook his head a little while Jack found his composure to beam up at him.

“I am really busy, you know, with my … ‘God business’” There was a little pang of sadness Dean felt at Jack bringing up his hands to make the same little air quotes Cas had been so fond of. “But I might just take you up on the offer. It can get pretty lonely. And I do miss your burgers.”

At this Dean perked up and let his pride straighten his posture. “Well, they are the best burgers in all of Kansas. You’d be a fool not to like ‘em. Also today’s you lucky day ‘cause I’m pretty sure there’s gotta be a couple burger patties left I can throw on the grill for you.”

Grinning up at Dean, the two of them stood there in comfortable silence for a while before sobering up.

“Dean, I really am sorry. I know you want him back. So do I. But I just don’t know how.”

The hunter waved his hand in a vague gesture, swallowing down any emotion rushing through him. “Eh, I figured it was a long shot anyway. I just … I had to try, you know?” His shoulders slumped forward a bit.

Jack regarded him with eyes far too knowing for his age. “I know. He’d have done the same for you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a Winchester after all. Stubborn, self sacrificial, deal making assholes that we are”, Dean replied with a chuckle. Seeing the grief never quite leaving Jack’s face, Dean pushed the sorrow he was feeling into a dark room in his heart and sealed the door shut. For now, at least. Putting on his big brother mask, he reached up to ruffle the kid’s hair. “Alright, now come on. Let’s go see Sammy. He’ll freak out when he sees you. Maybe he’ll even faint. I’ll definitely need to film that.”

Jack laughed and let Dean put an arm around his shoulders and drag him back into the bunker.

Considering they had been telling the story of how they defeated God more than a couple times, it probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise that at the sight of Jack stepping foot into the war room, everyone kind of just stopped moving. No one here had a great record at dealing with powerful beings after all.

Jack however didn’t notice. Before he could even wave his Hello, a ball of fur came darting through people’s feet, bee-lining for Jack who let out a high pitched squeal and dropped right down to the dirty bunker floor to hug Miracle and bury his face in the dog’s neck.

After that the hunters relaxed. Most of them had met Jack at one point or another and apparently this was proof enough for them that while his abilities might have changed, inside he was still just the young kid who loved nougat. Besides, he’d been raised by three of their own.

Sam – who didn’t faint, by the way, thank you very much – came striding over with big steps and surprise and happiness written on his face and pulled Jack up from Miracle and right into his arms. “Hey, Jack. Welcome home.”

Dean watched them with a fond expression and ignored the concerned look his brother shot him after he pulled away from the nephilim. Of course Sammy had put 2 and 2 together on why exactly Dean would have summoned Jack. Stanford kid wasn’t stupid after all.

The rest of the night had everyone not so subtly asking Jack about his plans for the world and Jack mostly just answering that he didn’t really know yet.

That went on until at last everyone either said their goodbyes or disappeared into one of the bunker’s many bedrooms.

When morning arrived, sunlight hidden in the windowless bunker, Dean had already given up on sleeping. After tossing and turning for a few hours he’d resigned himself to make a big pot of coffee and carrying it with him into the library.

That’s where Jack found him, elbow propped up on the table, bleary eyes staring down into a book and a mess of other tomes and references and notes strewn across the table as if a used book store had thrown up in the library.

Jack carefully stepped up to the table, picking up the closest book and reading the title. _All about Angels Volume 3: Summoning_. He frowned. “Good morning. What are you doing?”

Dean blinked slowly, coming back to the world of the living and leaned back in his chair to stretch his arms above his head. “Research. Why’re you up so early? Even Sam’s not up for another hour for his run.” The word _run_ always sounded like an insult out of Dean’s mouth and it made Jack laugh.

“I was just coming to say Goodbye.” At Dean’s frown he was quick to add, “For now. I have some uh, God business to do.”

Dean nodded slowly, deciding it was probably better not to ask. “Well, as I said yesterday, you’re always welcome here. It’s your home. You better come by for weekly family dinners!”

Jack grinned at him and nodded. “I will, I promise.” He stepped back and raised his hand for his mandatory wave but something was nagging at Dean. He’d thought about it a lot last night so before he could talk himself out of it or Jack could disappear, Dean held up a hand.

“Hold on a second, Jack. I gotta say something real quick.”

_A man who acted out of love, not out of anger, huh? Well, time to let go of the anger, then._

The way Jack tilted his way to the side in confusion reminded Dean so much of Castiel that he hurried to keep talking before he could dwell on it too much. “I know you still beat yourself up about what happened with Mom. I know you feel guilty about it. But the fact that you know what you did was wrong? That’s the important thing. Y made a mistake. It wasn’t even really you, hell, you basically had no soul left and I know what that’s like. We’ve all done shit we regret, Sam has when he was soulless, I have when I was a demon, Cas-” Dean looked away for a second and coughed around the lump in his throat. “What I’m trying to say, I realize that you’ve been trying your best to get better. I know I’ve been too hard on you since – Well always, really. I haven’t treated you right. I haven’t been here for you the way Cas and Sam have and I’m also sorry for that. And what happened with Mom…”

The sight of Jack staring at his shoes with his shoulders shaking in a way that showed how much he was struggling giving him the last push he needed. Dean pushed his chair back from the table, stood up and went over to come to a halt in front of the kid. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he gave it a squeeze and waited until he looked up at him through tears in his lashes.

“Jack, I forgive you. Yeah, I was angry about it and devastated that Mom’s gone, but it happened and there’s nothing we can do but move on. So yeah. There you have it. You’re forgiven,” he ended a little lame.

Jack stared up at him incredulously. “But, Dean, you can’t just-“

“I can, Jack, and I have. There’s so much bad in this world and after all we’ve been through? Everything you’ve done for us? How could I _not_ forgive you? Jack, you’re our kid. Kids make mistakes and it’s the parents’ job to forgive them. You’re not the same person anymore, you’re _good_ now. You’ve done so good and you’re still doing good and that’s all that matters.”

Still not looking like he believed him, Jack started shaking his head rapidly. Dean rolled his eyes at him affectionately and just pulled him into a tight hug. He knew from the shaking breaths he took that Jack was quietly sobbing now, but he just held him through it.

Dean had thought about this hard last night and though he hadn’t thought he could ever forgive Jack for killing Mary, Dean had found that when he thought about that night, he didn’t feel any anger anymore. Sadness, sure. Grief, of course. But nothing directed at Jack. The kid had shown them time and time again now that he wasn’t the evil half angel, half human monster everyone had suspected he was when they first heard about Lucifer’s son.

Jack was a Winchester and if he made a big, stupid mistake, then so what? That was basically a family trait at this point.

A big grin, if a little teary eyed, sat on his face when Jack found his composure and pulled back from Dean. “Thank you, Dean. You can’t imagine how much that means to me. I am sorry about-“

Dean shook his head quickly. “No. No apologizing anymore, okay? It happened, you apologized – more than once, too – you showed me how much you regret it, I forgive you. That’s over now.”

Smiling sheepishly, Jack nodded. “I really should go now.”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder once more, smiling brightly at him. “Alright. Go and make all your dads proud.”

Waving his hand, the sound of wings resounded in the bunker and then Dean was alone again, left to his books. So he sat down and read.

“So what’s all this then?” Sam asked when he came back from his shower, still dripping a little from his hair. Dean sighed annoyed and pulled a book away from where the water drops had fallen on the cover.

“It’s research.”

Sam rolled his eyes and started randomly thumbing through an encyclopaedia of all things heavenly. “I can see that. What I’m asking is what you’re looking for.”

Dean started rolling up a random piece of paper in his hand, staring at the table. “You know what. I’m looking at a way to either get into the Empty or to get … Someone out.”

Sam nodded; he knew that of course, he just needed Dean to actually use his words for once.

“And how’s that going?”

Dean huffed a frustrated sigh and rubbed his hands over his face harshly. “It’s not. There’s virtually nothing about that hellhole in any of this shit. I thought the Men of Letters were oh so smart! How come none of their lore says anything about the Empty?”

Sam just stared at him worriedly. He knew Dean wasn’t finished and he was proven right when Dean’s shoulders folded in on themselves and he let his head drop to his chest.

“I can’t just let him go, Sam. I can’t. Not after he…” he trailed off but now Sam’s interest was peaked. Dean hadn’t talked much about what actually went down that day, they were too busy finding a way to defeat Chuck and to be honest he also hadn’t been ready to talk feelings since he was reeling with sorrow after losing Eileen. And after that Dean had shut down any talk about emotions. Not that Sam was surprised.

“After what, Dean? What happened?” He didn’t really expect an answer. Acknowledging what he felt had never been Dean’s strong suit. He’d always preferred letting his frustration out by punching something. Or someone.

So when he actually got the whispered response, Sam’s eyes widened.

“He said… Sammy, he said he loved me.” Dean looked up and Sam’s breath hitched. In all his 37 years he had never seen his strong big brother who never stayed down long after he’d been kicked to the ground, look this lost. “He said he loved me and had this whole speech ready and I couldn’t even say anything. I didn’t even understand what he was talking about at first and when the shoe dropped, it was too late. He killed- he _sacrificed_ himself, gave himself up to the Empty for- for me, Sammy.” Dean’s voice broke and he closed his eyes to stop the tears from falling.

All this information wasn’t news to Sam. Everyone with eyes knew how Castiel felt about Dean. Except Dean, obviously.

What worried him however was the fact that Dean had no fight left in him to even argue about talking feelings.

In the gentlest voice he could manage Sam asked him, “And how do you feel about him?”

Again, he was just waiting for the older hunter to become upset at all this _chick flick shit_ and run out of the room, away from any deep talk.

And again, Sam was startled when Dean said, in a voice so low that he had to lean over the table to hear him, “I feel the same. And I couldn’t even tell him.”

One disadvantage of never talking about emotions in this family, Sam didn’t have the slightest clue now what he was supposed to say. His decision was taken from him however, when Dean’s entire posture changed from one second to the next. He straightened up, chuckling unconvincingly and rubbing a hand over his eyes. Any vulnerability was shut down within a heartbeat and the walls came back up. Talk was over.

“Anyway. Nothin’ I can do about it but try and find a way to get him outta there. So that’s what I’m gonna do.” Picking up what had to have been the most promising books of the bunch, Dean fled the room as fast as he could, not giving his little brother a chance to speak.

Sam’s worried gaze stayed on the spot he disappeared to for a long while after, heartbroken for the love his brother never got to experience.

Once again the door slammed shut behind him and once again Dean was alone in his room. He hadn’t planned on letting Sam in on how he was feeling but he just didn’t care anymore. Dean knew Sam wouldn’t judge him and even if he did, at this point Dean had no energy left in him to care.

Driven only by stubbornness to find a way to rescue his angel, Dean laid out the books that he had the most hope in – not that it was much, most of these tomes didn’t even mention the Empty – and got to work leafing through them.

When the rest of his bottle of scotch was gone so was Dean’s belief that he could find anything even remotely helpful. All the centuries of knowledge and he couldn’t find any way to get into the Empty. At this point he wouldn’t even care for a way out. He just wanted to get to Castiel. No matter how it was done.

“C’mon! Anything! There must be some way to get into that goddamn hellhole!”

Dean shoved the last book he had off of his lap before he ran his fingers through his hair to pull at the strands sharply. He couldn’t even do this. He couldn’t even find a way to get to the angel.

Pushing all the books to the floor, uncaring for the old covers and the frail pages, Dean put on the headphones that were plugged into his walkman, flicked off the lamp on his nightstand and wriggled his way under the covers. He didn’t even know where Miracle was hiding out but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his room again. Surely Sam would let him sleep into his room. He’d taken a liking to the fluff ball which wasn’t surprising to anybody. The kid had begged for a dog his entire childhood after all.

Dean pushed down the Play button on the player and stared into the empty space as the opening sounds of Led Zeppelin’s _Thank You_ filled his ears.

All the times Dean had lost Castiel – be it by exploding into thousands of bloody chunks or via angel sword at the hand of Lucifer, being consumed by the Leviathan or stabbed by that bitch of a reaper – it all added up now to punch the air out of Dean’s lungs.

He’d watched the angel before, had watched him sacrifice himself for the greater good time and time again and of course it was never easy. It always sucked balls.

But this time? This time was different. This time Dean knew it was all his fault. This time Castiel had died as a direct consequence of Dean’s actions.

If Dean wouldn’t be Dean, if he hadn’t compelled Castiel to help them stop the apocalypse – well, the first iteration of it anyway – all those years ago, if the angel had never met him, never pulled him out of Hell, he’d be fine now. He wouldn’t have died at all, ever.

If it weren’t for Dean, Castiel would be safe, healthy and _alive_ right now.

Dean made a low sound of distress in the back of his throat.

It was all his fault. It was always his fault. People kept dying around him, kept leaving him and he was terrified of being alone.

Dean huffed. Oh, the irony in that.

Of course he was scared of solitude. Demons and angels alike had told him over and over again how his pathetic ass couldn’t stand being on his own.

And he’d proved them right, too. He’d sold his soul so Sam would come back to him; he’d stopped his brother from closing the gates of Hell so he wouldn’t die. Hell, it went all the way back to the fact that Dean couldn’t even go look for their dad on his own. He just had to go to Stanford and make Sam come join him on his wild-goose chase. Drag him away from the life he had built for himself.

It was no surprise really that nobody stayed. Who would want to be tied to Dean’s unstable ass anyway?

A watery smile found its way onto Dean’s face.

_Well, at least you got out, Cas. At least you finally got away from me. I’m no good to anybody and I’ve never been any good to you. I treated you like shit the entire time. Never gave you the benefit of the doubt even when all you were doing was try and do the right thing._

_Fuck, the right thing is what I told you to do time and time again and somehow I still got upset with you even though you were just doing what I taught you. Or what I thought I taught you, anyway. Not like I know right from wrong anymore._

_Man, you didn’t even do it to stroke your ego, not once. Your heart’s always been in the right place and I punished you for it._

Dean took a deep breath, flinching as the memories came rushing in.

_I yelled at you and I beat you up for it and I sent you away and I let you leave just because I couldn’t deal with how I felt. Just ‘cause I couldn’t make heads or tails with you and needed to protect my stupid heart and push you away. Now look what I’ve done. By protecting myself I’ve sacrificed you. Sacrificed your happiness._

_God, that’s what loving me gets you, I guess. Gets you dead._

Dean let his head fall back against his pillow and closed his eyes. He just wanted to escape this reality for a while. Or longer.

He dreamed. Or well, had a nightmare. Naturally. Because reality wasn’t scary enough so the monsters had to follow him into unconsciousness.

Looking around the field he was standing in, Dean knew it looked vaguely familiar. Trees were lying all around him – wait, what? He wasn’t much into nature and all but even he knew trees weren’t supposed to lie on the ground.

Before he could figure out why this place looked so familiar Dean felt a hand on his right shoulder. Backing away and spinning around, he reached for the gun he always carried tucked into the waistband of his jeans but could only grabbed air.

Not that there was anyone there to point the gun at anyway.

Dean turned this way and that but no one was there.

Feeling weirded out he made his way to the edge of the clearing he got dropped in. Only after a few minutes he realized he hadn’t made any progress. He was at the same spot he’d started in. Frowning, he changed the direction and tried again. And again.

Nothing changed except for the sun that had been burning high in the sky but was now setting, making way for a moon whose light was suppressed by a thick wall of clouds.

The hunter started to get nervous. He still couldn’t figure out where he was and he couldn’t get out of here. His head snapped around when a branch broke behind him.

It was difficult to make out what shadows were trees and what weren’t but what he _could_ see terrified him.

Eyes were staring at him out of the distant line of trees, glowing red.

All of a sudden Dean knew where he was.

The clearing he’d woken up in was the same one where he climbed out of his grave all those years ago after he’d gotten saved from the torture in Hell. Where he got dragged to by hellhounds.

The same hellhounds that were glaring at him, closer now than just a moment before.

Dread found its way into Dean’s body. His chest felt tighter, his lungs couldn’t process the air he sucked in, his palms got clammy and sweaty.

Dean knew he needed to run, _now_ and far away at that but he couldn’t bring his feet to move.

He stood, paralyzed and could only watch with terror as a dozen or so of the demonic creatures made their way towards him, seemingly not in a hurry. Their prey wasn’t going anywhere so why rush?

Trying to swallow the anxiety that rose in Dean’s throat like bile, his eyes darted around the forest, looking for some way out of this hell.

But it was just trees and dead grass and he couldn’t move his legs.

Every inch the hounds moved forward, Dean felt closer to passing out. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs, his heartbeat was pounding in his ears and his sight started to darken around the edges. He’d have done anything to just pass out into blackness.

As the first hellhound reached him, nothing to see except for a shadowy figure and those damn red eyes, Dean felt the hand around his shoulder again and got pulled back by it abruptly.

And not a second too soon as the hellhound had opened its mouth and was burying its sharp teeth into what just a moment ago would have been Dean’s thigh.

He didn’t need to imagine how that would have felt. He’d lived it before and it was anything but pleasant.

Now however, Dean was staring at the back of a tan trench coat. Tousled black hair got even messier as the angel in front of him fought off the hounds with his angel blade, making quick process of three of them causing the others to growl deeply before fleeing the scene, deciding to get their dinner elsewhere.

All the while Dean could just stare at the person before him.

“Cas? That you?”

Rigid shoulders tense from the fight relaxes slowly before Castiel turned around with a smile on his face.

“Hello, Dean.”

The hunter couldn’t believe his eyes and inched forward slowly, his hand raised to touch Castiel’s face. He had to make sure his angel was real, that he was alive and well.

But the angel didn’t let him get that far.

He grabbed his wrist before it could make contact with his skin. In a matter of seconds his entire demeanor changed.

Gone was the soft smile, the fond expression on his face. He was grinning now but it was a nasty grin. A malicious one that Dean had only ever seen on his face when the Leviathan were possessing him or when Lucifer had controlled his body. Dean froze in his movements and it felt like his veins were filling up with ice.

“No, no, no. This can’t be happening. I can’t do this again. Please.” Dean didn’t realized he was begging until he heard the choked sob as his voice broke at the end of it.

The smirk on Castiel’s face got wider. “Oh, but Dean, it is! You wanted me back, didn’t you? Well, here I am! This is what you wanted.” His left hand still holding Dean’s wrist in a death grip that cut off the blood supply to his fingers, Castiel lifted the other hand to wrap it around Dean’s throat, squeezing tightly.

The hunter shook his head over and over, as much as he could in the hold of the angel.

“No, no, no…” He couldn’t form proper sentences, had given up on trying to reason with Castiel before he even started. He just wanted to slip into unconsciousness; he couldn’t bear to look at the angel when he had this expression on his face. Dean just kept rolling his head left and right and sobbed as much as he could with what little air he had left.

“You know, I never should have saved you from Hell, Dean. You never deserved it. You were so weak. I mean, what was it, 30 years? Before you couldn’t take it anymore and had Alastair take you off the rack.” The hold on Dean’s throat got even tighter and he started gasping for air that would never fill his lungs. “Before you decided that you’d get to deal out the pain now and torture other people. Even your deadbeat dad lasted longer and he never broke. Three times as long as you, Dean, don’t you realize? You are weak. You are worthless. You are nothing. Especially not to me. Did you really think an angel of the Lord could love your pathetic ass? Please. Cry me a river.”

Dean was helpless as Castiel pulled him close to his face. Their noses were touching and Dean could see the venomous look in his eyes. “I saved you, I gave you everything and more. I fell for you, Dean. I became one of you pathetic little monkeys and you never repaid me. I should have left you to rot in Hell like you deserved.”

Castiel’s eyes widened and the corners of his mouth turned up as if he’d just had a brilliant idea. “In fact, you know what? I can arrange that. I’m going to throw you back in there so you’ll finally get what you deserve.”

With the last bit of energy Dean could summon he started struggling. Panic was flaring up in him. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything much but plead in his mind, hoping it would reach Castiel in a prayer. _Not there. No, please don’t take me back there. Anything but - please no-_

It was of no use. Castiel gave him one last vile sneer before he threw Dean on the ground.

Bracing himself for pain to shoot up his back on the heavy impact, Dean was shocked when it didn’t happen. Instead he fell into a never ending black hole, letting the sweet promise of nothingness swallow him as he finally lost consciousness, the last thing he saw the image of the evil contortion of the man he loved staring after him as he plummeted.

With a gasp that resounded in the quiet room, Dean woke up.

He dove for the lamp and almost pulled it out of the plug in the wall as he tried to turn it on with shaky hands.

When finally light flooded the room, Dean sat up and looked around frantically, his heart in his throat. He knew he was shaking like a leaf, could feel the mattress vibrate beneath him. His eyes didn’t stop darting around, expecting the hellhounds to tear through the thin wood of the door any second. Or that horrifying echo of –

No.

When nothing happened even after minutes of panic, the hunter closed his eyes. _Just a nightmare, nothing more. You’re okay, it wasn’t real. You’re okay_. Dean forced himself to relax. Breathing in as slow as he could manage, he made his shoulders lose the tension. _Just a dream_. He breathed out. _Just a dream_.

Still disoriented, Dean let his head fall into his hands. So much for a peaceful sleep.

As his ears slowly stopped ringing from adrenaline, the sounds of quiet music filled them instead. Lifting his gaze, his eyes fell to his headphones that lay discarded by the foot of his bed, the cable tangled in his sheets. He must have torn them from his head when he’d woken up.

Dean tried to keep his breathing steady as he listened to the last chords of _The Rain Song_ play into the night before it stopped, the last song on the mix tape coming to an end.

“Should’ve just told him how I felt. He’s a damn angel, ‘course he wouldn’t get what a mix tape’s supposed to mean,” Dean muttered to himself. “Idiot.”

Thinking back to the nightmare, Castiel’s voice repeated in his mind, _Did you really think an angel of the Lord could love your pathetic ass?_ Dean felt his eyes well up again. He rubbed at them angrily.

“Enough with the crying already, what am I, a twelve year old girl who got dumped by her crush?”

The tears didn’t stop though.

_I’m going to throw you back in there so you’ll finally get what you deserve._

Maybe it was what he deserved though. He’d saved some people, sure, but how many died for him? How many people had Dean sacrificed for Sam or for Castiel? Maybe this was karma finally coming for him. Maybe Castiel had to die so Dean could atone for his sins. God knows he had too many of those.

Since the music had stopped, Dean’s sobs echoed through the silence of his room.

When his back started to hurt from sitting hunched over Dean settled onto his side, turning off the light again. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep but if Sam went by his room and saw the light creeping out under the door he would knock and ask if he was okay and Dean just couldn’t deal with his brother right now.

So there Dean laid, wallowing in his usual self-hatred, his sorrows and regrets and waited.

For the morning to arrive, for death to come, he didn’t care. He just wanted to be dramatic some more, sue him.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, staring at the alarm clock sitting on his nightstand. The neon green numbers seared into his retinas until he could see their image every time he blinked.

He flinched hard when his phone rang, loud and high pitched. He ignored it. Whatever it was, it could wait until morning. Dean really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, whether it was a friend or someone who needed him to pretend he was FBI.

It rang again shortly after that so Dean buried his head under a pillow and waited for it to stop.

When it happened the third time, he sat up abruptly in his bed. Fumbling for it on the table next to him for a moment before realizing it had fallen to the ground at some point during the night, Dean dove under his bed to pick it up.

Unknown number.

He swiped at the screen and yelled “What?” in a voice hoarse from crying before the phone was even pushed to his ear.

“Dean?”

Dean froze. “No. No, no, no. Not again,” he whispered before he twisted his arm back and threw the phone at the far wall. It shattered into little pieces. _Good_.

The hunter buried his face in his bent knees, disregarding every breathing exercise Sam had ever tried to teach him and started hyperventilating. _This can’t be happening. Why do monsters keep fucking with me? First Lucifer, now… Whatever the fuck that was. Hell, maybe it_ was _Lucifer. Maybe he’s back somehow. Wouldn’t even be surprised at this point. But why do they need to keep using his voice?_

Amidst Dean’s frenzy there was a low sound from his desk drawer for a short moment before it started playing a joyful sounding melody.

He tried to ignore it but it got louder and louder and didn’t stop so at last he lunged to the floor, ripped the drawer open and nearly out of its hinges and grabbed the phone he almost couldn’t see through his tears.

“For fuck’s sake, you son of a bitch. I don’t care who you think you are, just stop this! Stop torturing me like this, damnit!” he shouted into the microphone, uncaring if Sam would come running in a minute.

Breathing heavily, Dean almost didn’t hear the reply.

“What are you talking about? Dean, it’s me, it’s Cas. I’m back,” came Castiel’s confused voice, sounding tinny through the crappy speaker.

Dean broke down onto the floor, one hand braced on the cold ground, the other clasping the plastic with so much force that it was quivering in his grip as if he could hold onto Castiel’s voice this way. He knew it wasn’t real but he couldn’t help basking in that gravelly voice for a moment.

It got too much though. He needed this to end.

With a whispered “No, you’re not” Dean hung up the call, turned off the phone quickly and lay down on his bedroom floor, letting the tears fall. This was starting to become a habit.

Despite the sobbing wreck that he was, Dean chuckled to himself, the sound devoid of any humor.

_Guess I’m having a psychotic break now. Hallucinations, that’s a new one. Not that surprising though if you think about it._

Decades of unaddressed trauma, from his abusive upbringing over 40 years in literal Hell and being confronted with all kinds of monsters, being used by an archangel to losing so, so many people without any time to properly process any of it, no one could be surprised that Dean Winchester was now hallucinating his angel calling.

Honestly, this was par for the goddamn course.

Nodding off into a state of half-awake, half-asleep, Dean didn’t know how much time passed as he stayed on the cold hard floor. Night must have gone and passed the torch to morning, he figured, as Sam’s loud, annoying alarm filled the room on the other side of the hallway, a noise that Dean usually gave him shit for.

He listened, only barely conscious, as Sam got up, shuffled his way to the kitchen to turn on the noise coffee maker and back down the hall to the bathroom. When the shower stopped its monotone noise and petered out into an irregular dripping Sam went back to his room again shortly before the muffled steps became more distant as he made his way to the war room. After the loud thump of the bunker door faded out the comforting sounds of his baby brother getting ready for his morning run stopped and Dean was once again alone with the silence.

Dean must have dozed off at last, his body finally giving in to the need to pass out because he shot upright disoriented from his shallow slumber when the heavy bunker door slammed open against the wall behind it. He didn’t think much of it except _Have some consideration for the people who aren’t crazy enough to go sweat their balls off before 7 am, maybe, for fuck’s sake_ until he heard Sam hurrying down the metal staircase through the thin wood of his door, each step accompanied by a resounding _clank_.

He faintly heard his brother yell his name and sat up groggily, rubbing the little sleep he’d gotten out of his eyes. Judging by the pounding of heavy footsteps coming in the direction of his room, Dean figured something had happened. He let his head fall back against the wall with a thump.

 _Jesus, can we ever catch a break? What is it now?_ He chuckled. _Hell, maybe it is Jesus. Wouldn’t even surprise me anymore._

Something in Dean’s back made a grating cracking sound in symphony with his kneecaps as he pushed up off the floor to meet Sam in the hallway. He’d really gotten too old to spend the night on the floor, he thought with a scrunched up face.

“Dean! Dean, come here, you won’t believe it!”

The door flying open, Dean almost got squashed by his brother’s enormous body, just barely able to step back before crashing into him. “Alright, alright, slow down. What is it, Sasquatch?”

“Cas. He’s back.”

Dean froze in the middle of stretching his arms above his head. Sam said something more, started rambling about what had happened but Dean didn’t hear him over the blood rushing in his ears. His eyes searched Sam’s face but found nothing but open delight. Then he noticed the arm gesturing in the vague direction of the war room and Dean was pushing his way around Sam and was running before he even realized it.

The hallway was short enough but in this moment it stretched endlessly as Dean raced through it. There were a thousand thoughts going through his head but at the same time none at all. The only one that mattered was _Cas_.

Stumbling over the step leading up to the room, Dean had to grab the side of the doorframe for balance and came to a screeching halt there.

His breaths coming out irregular and harsh, Dean had to lean onto the wall now to avoid falling over.

Looking like he’d always been sitting there, wearing the usual suit and tie and the familiar crumpled trench coat, there he sat, not a hair out of place – well, except for the perpetual bed head so really, no hair was ever really _in_ place.

“Cas?”

Dean’s voice broke on the lone syllable but he couldn’t care less when Castiel looked up from the table and gave him a small smile.

“Hello, Dean.”

Shaking his head in disbelief but unable to keep his feet from moving, Dean crossed the room and stood on the other side of the table.

“It’s really you, right? This time? It’s not fake?”

Castiel stood up slowly. Hands raised as if to show that he wasn’t dangerous, he said in a gentle voice, “No, Dean. It’s really me, I promise. I got out of the Empty and I really am back.”

That was it. That was as long as Dean could hold out before rounding the table and coming to a halt in front of his angel. Hesitating only a second, his hand suspended in midair, Dean thought to himself, ‘If this is some sort of trick again, I’m gonna lose it. I couldn’t take it.’ Then he put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and sighed with relief as his lips split into a wide grin.

“You’re real. You’re really real.”

Castiel barely had the time to chuckle at Dean’s eloquent phrasing before he was pulled into a hug. They clung to each other, hands fisted into tan fabric and flannel, as if their life depended on it. Dean dramatically mused that for him this might as well have been true.

Giving himself just a second to bury his head in Castiel’s neck, Dean whispered into dark hair, “Fuck, man, I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you? I think that’s a bit of an understatement, Dean,” came the amused voice of Sam behind them.

They let each other go but stayed close together, neither of them wanting to move too far away.

Dean didn’t bother to answer. His mind had just stopped completely and he was still waiting for it to reboot. All he could do was stare at the angel who smiled amused.

Sam watched Dean’s reaction for a moment with a grin before he rolled his eyes. “C’mon, let’s sit down so you can explain what the hell happened, Cas.”

Afterwards Dean would neither remember pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Castiel, nor accepting the cup of coffee Sam had to have given him but it must’ve happened at some point as the three of them were now sitting around the war room table as if none of them ever left.

He only came back to his senses when Sam cleared his throat and asked, “So what happened? How did you come back?”

Castiel looked down at the steaming coffee he was holding as he recounted, “You need to know first that when the Empty took me I had lost most of my grace so I was basically human at that point.”

Dean’s eyes almost bulged out of his head. “What? Why did you never tell me?”

Castiel turned squinted eyes on him, slightly annoyed that he was interrupted not even two sentences into his story. “I did tell you my powers were fading but I suppose there was so much happening that I never really found the time to explain just how little grace was left.”

Dean sat back into his chair. “Huh.”

With a glance back at him that warned him not to cut him off again, Castiel continued, “I don’t know how long I was in there but I know I was asleep for some time. But then something woke me up. I wasn’t sure what it was at first but I found that unlike last time I came to in the Empty I wasn’t alone. There were hundreds or thousands of angels and demons there, awake and wandering around. I tried talking to some of them but they were like zombies. Some more than others but most of them said the same thing: Everyone who’d ever been cast into the Empty had woken up and the Empty was angry.”

Sam made a thoughtful sound into his mug. “So that’s what it meant when he told Jack that he’d ‘made it loud.’”

“Yes, I suppose so. I tried to find someone I know, Gabriel or Meg or even Crowley or Ruby but there were so many of them. So I looked for a way out. But the Empty, it’s … Well, it’s nothing. It’s pure, black, never ending nothingness. And then …” Castiel spun his chair around to face Dean who had been listening with his mouth slightly open the entire time. He snapped it shut with quickly with the clanking noise of his teeth grinding together. “Then I realized what it was that woke me in the first place. It was you, Dean. The Empty was weakened by Jack exploding in there so your prayers could slip through the cracks.”

Dean scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. Prayers? “But I didn’t pray to you.”

“Perhaps not with intention. But prayers don’t have to be explicitly signified as such. A strong longing would suffice for it to reach me.” He smiled fondly at Dean whose ears started burning hot before he turned to face Sam again. “I realized I needed to get back to Earth. I didn’t know what was happening here or if you needed help. I didn’t even know if I could be of help, I just knew I had to get back. But I couldn’t find the entity I had annoyed into letting me go last time – not that it would have let me, not this time. So I did the only thing that I could think of.” Castiel took a deep breath and spoke his next words to the mug on the table. “I ripped out my grace and before I knew what was happening, I found myself waking up in a field.”

There was silence in the bunker for a moment. Nothing made a sound, not even the noisy pipes that usually never shut up.

Sam didn’t know what to say. His jaw hung open in an incredulous expression but he kept quiet.

Not realizing what he was doing, Dean jumped to his feet, towering over Castiel. “You what?!”

Flinching upon the sudden yelling, Castiel turned his face up to look at Dean irritated. “I got out of the Empty and I’m human now. What would you have had me do, Dean?”

Gesturing wildly with his hands, Dean’s voice only grew louder. “I don’t freaking know, Cas, but you didn’t even know if it would work! I mean, Hell, ripping out your grace? That’s not something you just do on a typical Sunday afternoon! What were you thinking?”

Standing up now to meet Dean’s heated glare with the calm air of someone used to this sort of behaviour, Castiel levelled him with his eyes. “I was _thinking_ that you were hurting and that I had to come back from the dead, again, to check if you were alright.”

Dean shrunk back marginally, his eyes flying to stare at Castiel’s dress shoes. “But you’re human! You shouldn’t have-“

“Yes, Dean, I’m human now. And I am fine with that.”

His eyes jumped back up to search the angel’s – well, the former angel’s – for the truth. Seeing only genuine composure Dean gave a small nod. “Okay. Okay. I guess … as long as you’re okay with it.”

He sank back down into his chair. _You’ve made him sacrifice himself for you and now you made him come back to you without his mojo. Great job, Winchester._ He cringed at the bitter words his brain provided him with.

“Well, I for one, am really happy you’re back, Cas. Wasn’t the same without you.” Always the pacifist, Sam stepped around the table with big steps and wrapped Castiel in one of his bear hugs. Castiel’s response, muffled somewhere between hair and plaid fabric, got lost on its way to Dean but Sam reacted with laughter.

When they pulled apart, a growling noise came from their position and all three men looked down at Castiel’s stomach with surprise.

“Alright, enough talking. There’s still some pizza left in the fridge, I’ll go get it.”

And so Dean and Castiel were alone for the first time since the Empty had come for the angel. For the first time since Castiel’s confession.

The silence that hung between them as they sat next to each other, both avoiding eye contact, wasn’t exactly an awkward one but it certainly wasn’t comfortable either.

Shifting around in his seat, Dean racked his brain for something to say. It wasn’t like there was a shortage of things to talk about but in that moment he couldn’t think of anything. Thankfully Castiel relieved him of the decision as he sat up straight and began quietly after he cleared his throat, “Dean, on the way here Sam told me about what Lucifer did. Tricking you like that … It’s no surprise you reacted like that when I called you. I want to apologize for that.”

Dean kept his eyes on his beer bottle as he replied. “Nah, Cas. It’s all fine. Just … triggered some bad memories or whatever but I’ll pull through, don’t worry.”

One corner of the angel’s mouth pulled down disapprovingly as he grabbed Dean’s left shoulder.

Dean’s body went rigid as he couldn’t do anything but stare at the hand.

 _Goodbye, Dean_.

It echoed in his head, again and again while the memory of being shoved to the side while black goo devoured his best friend played in his mind.

 _Goodbye, Dean_.

He couldn’t snap out of it until Castiel’s hand slid down to his elbow. Dean’s gaze wandered to Castiel’s face and took in the pained expression that quickly turned into an apologetic frown.

“You’re not fine, Dean. My calling you put you through pain that you do not deserve. And I am truly sorry for that.”

Dean scoffed incredulously as he took a sip from his beer and tried to regain his composure. “Dude, you just came back from the dead for the – I don’t even know how many times that’s been now. I couldn’t care less about some crying with you sitting here right now. Who cares for a little more trauma on the PTSD cake?”

A beat of silence. “You … cried? About me?”

Dean picked at the label of his beer bottle, ripping off a piece of paper and rolling it between his fingers. “Well you just got swallowed by some weird otherworldly slime. ‘Course I’d cry a little. What’d you think.”

A voice from the kitchen interrupted his rambling, “Don’t listen to him, Cas. He was full on acting like a heartbroken widow, crying and sobbing and drinking himself into oblivion, the whole nine yards!”

Feeling a flush creep up from his chest, Dean shouted, “Shut up bitch!” before quieting down again, looking at his socked feet. “So I’ve missed you. Sue me.”

When Castiel didn’t answer Dean finally lifted his head only to duck it back down when he couldn’t stand the soft, open affection on the angel’s face.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He tilted his head. “Like what, Dean?”

“Like-“ _That little shit_. He vaguely gestured at the man next to him with his hand. “Like that! Just stop it!”

Castiel didn’t answer. They both knew they had to talk about the elephant in the room at some point but neither wanted to be the one to breach the topic. And besides, with Sam bursting in as usual at any moment, this probably wasn’t the best time anyway.

Dean cleared his throat when the silence became too much and turned his head to grin at his friend. “So wait. What you were saying with your little bedtime story earlier is that my prayers saved you.”

Castiel squinted his eyes at him, his head tilted in confusion as he didn’t understand where Dean was going with this. “Yes, Dean, I’ve explained as much.”

The grin on the hunter’s face only got wider and he shrugged a shoulder in an attempt to look nonchalant. “So essentially, what happened is that-“ He had to let out a chuckle, already way too proud of what he was going to say and dropped his voice an octave. “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

Castiel looked at him with the most dead expression Dean had ever seen. Blinking at him slowly he just stared at him in slight disbelief. “I’m already starting to regret ever coming back.”

But Dean knew him too well after over a decade and could see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. And he was right, too as the smile made its way onto Castiel’s face when Dean broke out in laughter, proud of his extraordinarily funny joke.

“Regret already? That’s gotta be a new record.” Sam came back into the room with three plates and a box of pizza, setting all of it down on the table before distributing beer to everyone.

Dean raised an eyebrow but took the bottle with a nod. “Isn’t it like 8 in the morning?”

“Don’t pretend as if you care. Besides, we got Cas back, Chuck is gone, everyone who got Thanos-snapped is home safe. I say we celebrate a little.” He shrugged his shoulders.

Dean tilted his head at him in assent, “Can’t argue with that logic.”

Castiel reached across to take a plate from Sam and load it up with day old pizza. “Thank you, Sam. I’ve been starving since I woke up in that field. I’m just glad the Empty threw me out in Kansas and not on a different continent.” He took a contemplating bite and continued around his full mouth. “That would have been inconvenient.”

The dry tone of his voice made the brothers laugh.

“Shit, Cas. We’ve really missed you.” For once Dean didn’t feel any embarrassment as he vigorously nodded in agreement with Sam.

All three men scarfing down pizza as though they haven’t eaten in days – which really was true only for one of them, the others just acted as if they were raised in a barn, as usual – Sam brought Castiel up to speed on what he’d missed since his spontaneous trip into the afterlife.

Dean had tuned out early on, only hearing scraps of what was being said. “Lucifer offered his help … Realized Michael was gonna turn sides … Let Chuck beat us up a bit … Killed them both … Jack absorbed his mojo … Now human … Didn’t kill him though … Now Jack’s God … But don’t worry, Dean bullied him into still coming over for dinner …”

He’d been there. He’d lived it, he didn’t need the cliff notes so Dean occupied himself by staring at Castiel’s face as he was eating and sipping on his beer after he finished off the last piece of pizza. Dean couldn’t believe the angel – former angel, whatever, he didn’t care about specifics – was actually back. He had been convinced this would be it. He’d be gone for good. No do-overs this time. The hunter still believed he would wake up any moment in his bed but it never happened. He couldn’t believe his luck that he would get to continue the conversation Castiel had so conveniently finished by dying.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? That conversation had to happen at some point. Dean didn’t know how he felt about that. He knew how he felt about Castiel, of course. But actually saying it out loud? Expressing his emotions and putting them into words? It terrified him. He wasn’t good at that stuff. He would mess it up, say the wrong thing, as he always did. He’d drive Castiel away just when he’d gotten him back. And anyway, who was to say that this was what the angel wanted? Just because he’d told him that he loved him, didn’t mean anything. For one, he was an angel – had been an angel, whatever. Dean didn’t even know if the love Castiel felt for him was the same kind Dean had been silently carrying around with him for years. Besides, a lot had changed after he’d said that. He was human now, for Christ’s sake! Who was to say that he didn’t change his mind after getting puked out of the Empty? He wasn’t –

“Dean? Could you please stop staring at me like that? It’s making me uncomfortable.”

Dean jumped when his spiralling thoughts were interrupted by the voice next to him. “W-What?”

Sam broke out in laughter across the table which Dean responded to with his middle finger. Then he turned to Castiel again. “I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine. That’s what I’ve been feeling like for the last twelve years!”

The bitch face the angel gave him at that rivalled Sam’s.

“I need to use the bathroom,” he announced and marched down the hallway, mumbling something about never getting used to all this urinating.

Staring after Castiel, Dean couldn’t help but make sure one more time. “It’s … It’s really him, right? It’s Cas and he’s real and he’s here, yeah?”

Sam’s expression softened at the unfamiliar uncertainty written all over his brother’s face. Dismay and doubts obviously stormed under the surface. The anxiety coming off of him was almost tangible.

“It’s the real Cas, Dean. He’s back and he’s fine and now he’s safe, too.” A tiny smile settled on Sam’s face. “We finally caught a break, dude. We did it, we got everyone back – including Cas! We defeated Chuck, Jack’s the big boss now, Rowena is running Hell. This is good, Dean. It’s been years since the tide’s turned in our favour like this and damnit if we don’t deserve it.”

Still not entirely convinced, Dean opened his mouth, no doubt to argue but Castiel beat him to it as he came back through the doorway, a little unsure on his feet on the way to his seat.

“You know, it is very cumbersome that humans get drunk this easily. I drank an entire liquor store once and barely felt it but three beers as a human and I feel dizzy.”

Raising his beer bottle pointedly, Dean responded, “Well, takes years and years of practice but give it some time and beer will go down like water” while at the same time Sam shot him a doubtful look, “Barely felt it? Dude, you were full on wasted.”

Castiel looked at the both of them with squinted eyes, none of their answers were to his liking. He let it go though in favour of complaining some more. “And don’t even get me started on the peeing! It doesn’t make sense! Why does it feel like beer goes straight to my bladder?”

“That’s ‘cause it does, Cas. Beer doesn’t follow the laws of nature. Beer is its own _force_ of nature.”

Sam scoffed. “Where’d you pull that bullshit from, Nietzsche?”

“I am extremely wise, Samuel. Don’t undermine my intelligence.” Dean smirked at him lavishly.

“There’s nothing to undermine, Dean. Nothing at all.”

Castiel looked at the brothers with a fond expression on his face. He hadn’t realized it in the Empty considering he was asleep for the first part and had spent the second trying to find a way out but he’d missed this. The arguments, the well meant bickering between family. He was glad to be back.

They’d ended up sitting at the table for a long time, just talking. It hadn’t been that long a time that Castiel had been away but the events of the past weeks hadn’t exactly allowed for a lot of time to hang out and enjoy each other’s company. So that’s what they caught up on.

As the beer bottles accumulated on the table, Dean had become quieter and quieter. Looking over at his brother when there was a lull in the conversation he and Castiel had been having, Sam realized Dean had nodded off at some point, his head hanging between his shoulders in an awkward angle, eyes closed shut and mouth slightly open.

He turned to Castiel again with a chuckle. “Well, I should get going. I got plans with Eileen but I’ll bring her around for dinner so we can hang out some more?”

The angel nodded, “Of course, Sam. I look forward to seeing her again. I’m happy she’s back. I know you took it really hard when she disappeared.”

“Yeah, me too. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if she didn’t …” A sad look flashed over Sam’s face before it quickly turned into a happy smile that made him look like an excited puppy. “I’m just happy things have turned out well for us for once. And now with you back? It’s damn near perfect.”

Coming around the table, Sam pulled Castiel up off his chair and into another hug. With a gesture to Dean he quietly told him, “Get him into bed, will you? He hasn’t been sleeping much and the few times that he did … Well, if the yelling in the middle of the night meant anything, they were nightmares. And bad ones at that. Heard him all the way down the hallway in my room.” Sam let go and looked at his brother, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “He’s not doing great, Cas.”

Examining the dark circles under the hunter’s eyes from afar, Castiel looked determined. “I’ll take care of him.”

Sam smiled fondly at the picture of his best friend worrying over his big brother. “I know you will.” _They’ll be alright_.

He turned away to grab his jacket from the table and climbed the stairs. Before he opened the door, he looked back down over the railing. “Hey, Cas?” He waited until the former angel turned his face up to him with a questioning head tilt. Sam smiled at him warmly. “Welcome home.”

Castiel gave him a wide grin in return as he turned and left the bunker.

The angel’s grin slipped into a frown again as he turned back to Dean and shook his shoulder a little, rousing the man from his light nap. “Come on, Dean, let’s get you to bed.”

The trip to the hunter’s bedroom was not an easy one – he wasn’t a small guy by any means and without his angel powers Castiel had to rely solely on his human strength and stubborn determination – but in the end he managed to get Dean to lie down in his bed, still half asleep.

He was about to turn off the light and leave the room when he heard shuffling out in the hallway. Spinning around and getting into a fighting stance in front of the bed, Castiel pulled his angel blade out of his coat. He didn’t know what he was expecting to appear but it was certainly not the light haired creature that came running into the room and jumped up on the bed without as much as glancing at Castiel.

Turning around perplexed, his confusion only deepened when Dean sat up slightly and buried his face in the dog’s neck. “Hey there, handsome. Sorry for not letting you in last night.”

“Uh, Dean?”

The hunter lifted his head with a relaxed smile before his mouth turned into an O shape. “Oh crap, I completely forgot!” Giving the dog a light shove in Castiel’s direction, the smile reappeared, wider and brighter than before. “Miracle, meet Castiel. Cas, this is Miracle. Found her after Chuck snapped everyone away but this little fella here didn’t make the cut. Well at first anyway. Took him back here when everyone came back and the little stray didn’t seem to have anyone.”

Castiel sat down on the foot of the bed and held his hand to the dog’s nose. “Hello, Miracle. You’re quite the beauty, aren’t you?”

Dean grinned at two of his favourite creatures interacting. So he’s sappy, what about it?

Satisfied with his sniffing, Miracle trotted over the bed a little to flop down in Castiel’s lap. “I think he likes you!” Dean proclaimed with laughter in his voice as he reached forward to pet his dog’s head.

Raising his hand slowly, Castiel gently stroked the soft fur of the adorable animal. “The feeling is mutual. Very much so.”

After several minutes of attention Miracle seemed to have been contented as he pushed up on his legs, gave Dean’s face a quick lick that he was too slow to dodge and jumped down to the floor to leave the room. Most likely in search of some snacks. He took after his dad in that regard.

Dean slumped back against the headboard of his bed yawning while Castiel looked around the room curiously. There was a disturbing amount of various liquor and beer bottles strewn around the floor and surfaces, most of them empty; dirty clothes and discarded books laid in heaps everywhere and there was a small pile near the door that Castiel needed a minute to identify to be a phone. Well, at least that’s what it used to be.

Rubbing a hand across his neck sheepishly, Dean let out a quiet sigh when the angel turned to him with an inquiring look. “Don’t even ask.”

Castiel opened his mouth to do so anyway, especially as the movement drew his attention to bruised knuckles but he changed his mind as he took in the fatigue that showed in Dean’s tense shoulders, his red rimmed eyes and the way he blinked too much.

“We need to talk.” Dean opened his mouth to speak but Castiel talked right over him. “We need to talk, but that can wait until tomorrow.”

Now looking like he was about to protest, the angel interrupted him once again. “Dean, you’re exhausted. Even without my grace I can see that. You need to sleep.”

Dean raised his hands in surrender, slipping down under the covers but hesitated before he got too comfortable. He chewed on his lip as he began in a low voice, “Can you – I mean, obviously you don’t have to but I would probably – and you still have your room of course, you’ll always have that but – I’m just…” Dean realized he was rambling – badly, too – when Castiel squinted his eyes at him, confusion all over his face. So he took a deep breath. “Could you maybe … Could you stay here? Just for tonight. I need … I just gotta make sure you’re real. And that you won’t disappear again.” His voice had turned into a whisper as he spoke, picking at threads in the blanket to avoid Castiel’s eyes.

“Oh, Dean. Of course.” The hunter looked up and took in the fond expression mixed with a sad little look in his eyes. Castiel stood up and sat down in the chair next to Dean’s bed while he settled onto his side, facing his angel.

Despite the numbers on the alarm clock suggesting that it was only just past noon, in the windowless bunker time seemed like the made up concept that it was. Meaningless, if you turned off the lights. So that’s what Dean did.

Feeling unconsciousness creeping closer the second his head hit the pillow, Dean forced himself to stay awake just for a bit longer. “Hey, Cas?”

At the affirmative sound somewhere in front of him, Dean continued, “Just wanted to say I’m real happy you’re back. Dunno if I got that across earlier. Guess I was a bit shell shocked seeing you.” His eyes stopped cooperating and slipped shut. “Gotta say, though, I figured gettin’ you back’d be harder. Read through every damn book we have on angels, front to back, twice and still couldn’t find a way. Not even Jack could help me. Really thought …” His words were slurring together increasingly now as he hurried to get the rest of the sentence out before he was dead to the world. “Really thought I lost you for good this time. Wasn’t fun. Don’t do that again, yeah?”

A low laugh rang across the room. “I’ll try not to. I promise.” Castiel’s deep voice carried over to Dean in a soft tone and he smiled in response, not realizing that the room was too dark for either to see. “Sleep well, Dean.”

But he had already slipped into the world of dreams.

Dean shot up in bed, hitting his head on the wooden headboard in the progress. He knew he’d had a nightmare – they weren’t particularly rare these days – but at least he couldn’t quite recall all the details this time, only bits and pieces. Flashes of memories invaded his mind, real, year old memories that had been freshly dusted off to terrorize him within his dreams. Hellhounds tearing at his skin with their sharp claws, their long fangs sinking into his stomach and ripping through skin, muscle and blood away, dragging his soul to Hell and leaving his body behind in unrecognizable chunks; Dean, tied to the torturing rack in Hell, his guts hanging out of a deep, nasty cut in a bloody, stringy mess, the edges of the skin around it ragged from a dull blade.

He didn’t remember much aside from that but the pain he had been subjected to would never leave his memory.

The hunter pushed the balls of his hands into his eye sockets.

“Dean.”

Over his heavy breathing he almost didn’t hear the voice saying his name. He pulled away his hands only to quickly close his eyes against the harsh light flooding the room.

“Dean?”

He jumped when a hand settled on the crook of his elbow. Dean’s gaze shot over to the chair next to the bed and felt himself slumping over with relief.

“Cas.”

Waking up he’d immediately figured Castiel returning was just another figment of his imagination. To see him sit there, forehead creased as he leaned over – it was like the rain after months of drought.

“Fuck, man. You’re still here.”

Castiel regarded him questioningly with a head tilt.

Dean waved it off, lay back down. Castiel got the hint and turned the lights back off.

Darkness embraced the room. Immediately Dean’s anxiety returned. What if next time he woke up the angel wouldn’t be there? What if he wasn’t even there right now? Who was to say he wasn’t hallucinating? He knew his brain wasn’t the most reliable narrator. He didn’t know how elaborate hallucinations could be! How would he know –

A hand grabbed for his. Castiel must have heard Dean struggle for breath.

“There. Now you know that I’m here. Even in your sleep. I got you.”

Dean was too tired to even feel shame that Castiel had witnessed him basically have a breakdown. The events of the past weeks were catching up to him now that he had a moment of quiet and he fell back into a dreamless sleep within minutes, content in the knowledge that his angel was safe.

The next time he awoke it was much more gentle.

“Dean, Sam and Eileen are back and they’ve brought food.” That last word always peaked his interest so Dean opened his eyes slowly and stretched his arms above his head. Well, one arm. The other was still attached to Castiel’s fingers. Who still sat in the uncomfortable chair, his unoccupied hand holding a phone. That’s probably how he knew there was dinner ready without leaving the room.

The angel looked as tired as Dean had felt only hours before and he winced when he moved his head too quickly. This all confused the hunter. Castiel had been content to sit and wait for hours before, so why was he- With a start Dean understood the words from earlier that his drained mind hadn’t been able to comprehend. Castiel was _human_. And Dean let him sleep on the chair!

“Dude, why didn’t you say anything?” At Castiel’s puzzled face, Dean elaborated. “You’re human! And that chair isn’t all that comfortable. Especially not to sleep in.”

“I was more concerned for your state of mind, Dean. And it’s fine, it wasn’t too bad.” The crack coming from his neck when he looked back down at his phone betrayed him.

Dean knew that stubborn bitch face too well to continue arguing. It was a lost cause anyway. He would just have to make sure the angel would sleep in an actual bed tonight.

Letting it go and rubbing his eyes, Dean asked through a yawn, “What time is it anyway?”

“It’s after 6.”

The hunter paused. “In the evening? Why the hell didn’t you wake me? I’d have been fine after a little nap. And besides, you didn’t have to stay here the whole time.” He knew he had the hand lightly holding his to thank for the restful sleep he’d had but he felt bad knowing that Castiel was suffering back pain because of him.

“You looked peaceful and Sam told me you haven’t been sleeping well so I let you get some more rest.” Castiel shrugged his shoulders, as Dean grumbled into his three days of stubble.

“Well, Sam needs to stop his mother-henning. And don’t you let that rub off on you. Can’t have y’all ruining my manly reputation.”

The angel chuckled at that. “You mean the reputation of the guy who cooks homemade meals, raises his little brother, wears novelty socks and pants with hot dogs printed on them and likes watching Dr. Handsome?”

“It’s Dr. Sexy and you know it. I’ve made you watch enough episodes to know that you’re just trying to piss me off.”

Castiel only shot him a knowing smile.

“Hey, guys? Are you gonna come eat dinner or not? It’s getting cold!” Sam’s voice carried through the hallway.

At the promise of food Dean jumped out of the bed and was at the door before Castiel could even finish rolling his eyes.

Dinner went by in an easy going and casual manner.

Eileen had been excited to see Castiel again. Unprompted she had pulled him into a surprisingly strong hug considering her small size. Then again, she had been raised by a hunter and was capable of holding her own well, so what did he expect?

She and Sam had brought Chinese take-out for all of them which had earned Eileen another hug, though this time from Dean before he had flopped down into a chair and started piling up Chow Mein on his plate, a spring roll already stuffed into his mouth.

He hadn’t even noticed the three people shaking their heads at his behaviour.

They were all eating in comfortable silence when Dean noticed Eileen signing something to Sam and his brother replying. The hunter only knew the most rudimental of signs. He’d been meaning to learn but there was always an apocalypse or another happening. It was on the top of his to do list now though.

Looking to his left he noticed Castiel avoiding his gaze. Huh. Feeling left out of the conversation, his curiosity got the best of him.

Swallowing down his bite with a sip of his beer Dean gestured between his brother and his girlfriend. “Hey, no gossiping. What’re you two lovebirds talking about?”

Raising his eyebrows at Eileen who just shrugged her shoulders and reached for more chicken, Sam grinned at Dean. “We were just wondering if y’all have been talking at all since this morning.” The emphasis on the word talking left no room for misunderstanding and had Dean ducking his head and Castiel pushing his food around on his plate.

Not surprised at all at the constipated expressions, Sam chuckled. “I’ll take that as a No.” Then he dodged the napkin his brother threw at his head.

The conversation quickly moved on to a poltergeist hunt Eileen had been on at some point but Dean was now uncomfortably aware of the fact that at some point, Castiel and him would have to have the conversation he was dreading. He didn’t know what he was going to say and it scared the shit out of him.

Being physically affectionate with someone was easy. Especially if the person was only going to be in his life for one night. In, out, done. Easy.

But talking about his emotions? Expressing exactly what he was feeling?

God knows he’d never been good at it.

Dean reached for the sriracha sauce to pour over his noodles but wasn’t really paying attention. So of course, he missed the bottle, only grazed it with his arm and pushed it over to roll down the table. Expecting to have to clean up red sauce from the floor he was already almost standing when Eileen caught the bottle in a smooth motion and handed it over to him with a grin.

“Nice catch!” Sam said proudly while Dean signed a quick _Thank You_ at her.

“Dean!” He turned to stare at Castiel at the reprimand in his voice, dumbfounded when he found himself the target of an irritated glare.

“What?”

Across the table Sam and Eileen were bursting out into laughter. Dean once again felt left out and looked around from one to the next, confusion written on his face.

After a moment, Eileen calmed down enough to explain. “The sign for ‘Thank You’ is this.” She placed her hand at her chin before moving it outward. Then she grinned at him. “What you did?” She repeated the sign Dean had made, similar to the one she’d demonstrated, but with the hand starting under her chin. “That one means ‘Fuck you.’”

Dean stared at her before raising his eyebrows approvingly and sipping his beer. “Good to know, actually. That’ll definitely come in handy.”

For some reason Eileen and Sam exchanged a smile at that that was way too loving for the topic of the conversation.

Eileen turned back from her boyfriend and cleared her throat. “So I’ve seen the Lord of the Rings box set in your … what was it? The ‘Dean Cave?’”

That’s all it took for Dean to beam brightly at her, swallow his food quickly so she would have an easier time reading his lips and jump right into an hour long conversation about elves, dwarves, dragons and orcs that Sam and Castiel spent mostly by just sending each other amused smiles and their respective love interest warmhearted glances.

“If you ever decide to try out LARPing, just gimme a call. Doesn’t matter what I’m doing, I’ll make time.”

Dean was leaning into the driver’s window and grinned at Eileen who he’d just finished chewing a ear off about his best friend Charlie – “No, not Apocalypse World Charlie,” he’d said, “The original one that was resident to our world before being murdered by nazi pieces of shit.”

Sam sat in the passenger’s seat, giving Dean an exasperated bitch face. “She’s got it, Dean. Will you please let us go now?”

Stepping back and raising his hands in mock surrender, Dean gave in. “Alright, don’t wanna keep you two care bears. Go get your beauty sleep. Or whatever else you’re gonna get up to.” He accompanied the last part with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Drive. Please just drive,” Sam pleaded with his puppy eyes and his girlfriend complied with a laugh and a wave to Dean.

Returning back inside after watching Eileen’s red car drive off, Dean found Castiel cleaning up their trash. “Here, lemme help.” Dean grabbed some plates and empty bottles and they made their way to the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Castiel said after they were done throwing food boxes and containers away and placing dishes in the sink to be dealt with another time.

Dean nodded distractedly. He looked at his feet and swallowed thickly. Then he rubbed his sweaty palms over his jeans and looked up at the angel with a determined look in his eyes. “Okay, let’s talk.”

Castiel had obviously not expected Dean to be the one to breach the subject if the genuine surprise on his face meant anything. To his credit though he quickly recovered and his face smoothed out as he nodded and held out an arm as if to say _Lead the way_.

Dean’s room was where they ended up. It gave the illusion of privacy even when no one else was in the bunker. Well, except Miracle but he was blissfully asleep in his bed in the library after having dinner and they didn’t want to disturb him.

“So,” Dean began slowly, tapping a finger on his desk and tracking the movement with his eyes to avoid making eye contact with Castiel who sat at the foot of his bed with his trench coat neatly folded beside him. Dean decided to start off rather easy. “When you said you heard me pray to you … What all did you hear? ‘Cause I wasn’t even aware I was praying at all.” Dean chewed on his bottom lip nervously. He’d said and thought a lot of things these past couple days. Not knowing what exactly had made the cut and got delivered over to the Empty and what hadn’t was a bit nerve-wracking.

“Honestly not that much at all. The Empty is weak but it still had something of a wall up that blocked out a lot. Mostly it was just … feelings that I could sense. Anger, sadness … Grief, I suppose. And defeat. Frankly that was what made me hurry up and try to find a way out. I’ve experienced you in a lot of ways, Dean. But I’ve always hated to see you hopeless.”

Dean shifted from one foot to the other, still not meeting Castiel’s gaze. “Yeah, well. Wasn’t much to have hope in. You were gone, Cas. And I couldn’t do anything about it. Believe me, I tried. Getting’ an angel outta the Empty isn’t as easy as Jack or Billie advertised. And the way you left?” Now he turned around to glare at the angel, bitter frustration coming back along with the slight burn of hot anger. “You can’t do that to a guy, Cas. You can’t just … Drop the L-bomb and then dip! It’s not cool, man. Did you even think about how that would make me feel?” Dean ran a hand through his hair and tried to cool down a little, to no avail. The feelings had been pooling at the bottom of his throat for a while and now they wanted out. “You sacrificing yourself is one thing. But in that way? Fucking awful, buddy. I’ve felt responsible for you dying, Cas. I walked around with this massive pit of guilt burning in my stomach and there was nothing I could do. Nothing.”

The hunter turned away from him to rub at his eyes. He was _not_ going to cry. Breaking out in tears and sobs in the solitude of his room was one thing. But he wasn’t going to do that right now. Quietly he added, “You said you loved me and then you left me. And I get that you did it to save me and I’m grateful for that, I am but … Cas, this always happens. People say they care about me and then they leave me. No one stays and I’m left to pick up the pieces.” He spoke solely to his noodle-printed socks, not once looking up.

An astonished little _Oh_ sound behind him that told Dean that Castiel hadn’t in fact thought about it this way. He let out a humorless chuckle. Of course he hadn’t. Castiel wasn’t as fucked up in the head that he’d think about it like that.

There was some shuffling and then Dean felt body heat at his back and a hand on his arm that gently coerced him to turn around and look Castiel in the eyes.

“Dean, I didn’t realize how this would look to you. How it would affect you.” A sad smile passed over his face. “To be honest, I didn’t have much time to think about anything considering Death was quite literally knocking down the door and it was the only plan I could come up with. This isn’t an excuse for what I’ve put you through with my decision though. I am so sorry, Dean.”

He nodded in response, his green eyes lowering themselves to Castiel’s tie. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I know you wouldn’t do that, Cas.” Dean huffed a quiet laugh. “Sammy says it’s all the trauma finally catching up to me. That’s why I’m such a mess.”

Castiel gave the arm he was still holding a squeeze, unsure what to say to that.

Dean stood silently for a while, just breathing in and out like Sam had once tried to teach him and focused on the light pressure of the hand wrapped around his upper arm to calm himself down before continuing with something that had been on his mind for a while.

“Did you really think … When you took that deal, what were you thinking? ‘Well I ain’t ever gonna be happy anyway so whatever?’”

“At the time I was mostly just thinking about how to save Jack. The Empty was going to take him but I knew it really wanted me since I was the one who woke it up. So I offered myself. I didn’t think about the consequences until later.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, irritated. “Have you not learned that making deals with monsters is never a good idea?”

“Don’t you try and lecture me. You’ve done it so many times. I made the right choice, I still believe that. And I would do it again.” The stubborn look had returned to the angel’s face and Dean knew he had to let it go if he didn’t want this to turn into a full blown fight.

“Okay, whatever. Just don’t do it again. Come talk to us before making deals with the devil next time.”

Castiel scoffed at that. The _Hypocrite_ on the tip of his tongue didn’t have to be spoken out loud for them both to hear it.

They both stared into space for a while. Dean knew they were still tiptoeing around the main subject but he didn’t know how to start.

Once again, he needn’t have worried. Castiel saved the day once more by beginning to talk.

“Dean, about what I said before the Empty came to get me …” Dean’s breath hitched in his throat. His heart stopped beating for a moment before it started back up twice as fast. “I only said the things I did because I knew I would be gone. I never meant to make you uncomfortable but it was the only way I could think of that would save you.”

Instead of his heart it was now Dean’s brain that stopped cooperating. All he could do was stare dumbfounded at the mop of Castiel’s dark head where it was hanging down between his slumped shoulders. “I am aware that you don’t feel the same way and I would never expect you to. I just need you to know that. I hope this will not change how you see me. I’m perfectly happy with our friendship the way it is if you are okay with it, knowing how I feel. But I also don’t blame you if you aren’t. You just …” Dean’s heart broke a little for the man in front of him when his voice cracked. “All you have to do is tell me you’re uncomfortable with me being here and I’ll be on my way,” Casiel pressed out quickly, still not meeting Dean’s eyes.

_Did he seriously still not get it?_

With a disbelieving shake of his head Dean stepped into the angel’s space and waited silently for him to finally raise his head.

“Okay, dumbass. You listen to me right now. Up until like a week ago, I didn’t even know angels could feel that way. Even after you said it, I kept thinking, ‘Well, he probably meant it in a brotherly kinda way.’ I didn’t let myself think …” Dean paused. “Shit, Cas, this whole communicating thing isn’t easy for me.”

Castiel made to answer him but Dean held up a hand to stop him. He had to get it all out now before he chickened out once again.

“Think about it, Cas. I’ve looked for you in Purgatory for a year. I’ve wrapped you in blankets when you were under Rowena’s spell. I’ve made you sit on the couch with me and watch all my favourite movies. I make you coffee and breakfast even if it’s all just molecules to you. I make you dress up as a cowboy for me. Christ, I’ve made you a freaking mix tape!” Dean took a deep breath. He still couldn’t say it. There was no way he could speak the three little words out loud that he’d been running from his entire life. On the other hand he didn’t feel like a simple _I love you_ would convey exactly what the angel meant to him. It was _that_ , yes, but it was just so much more.

“Damnit, Cas. You told me I changed you but did it ever occur to you that you changed me, too? You pulled me outta Hell, sure. But after that you stuck around. I know I talk a big game of free will but honestly? You showed me what free will actually means. You showed me that there were things worth falling for, things that are worth turning your back to everything you know for.

You showed me over and over again that maybe – just maybe I am worth something. That maybe I was worth leaving a whole army of angels behind.”

The hunter looked down at his hands, shaking where they were curled into fists next to his body. Then he raised his gaze again because he had to make sure Castiel understood what he was saying. “You make me a better man because you hold me accountable when I make stupid decisions. And we both know I make a shitton of those. And then – unlike so many people in my life – you don’t just leave when the going gets tough. You allow me to change for the better. More often than not that takes me a while and I know it’s gotta be frustrating as hell. But you say ‘Here’s where you went wrong’ and then you say ‘Fix it. I’ll be here in the meantime but you gotta put in the work.’”

Dean stopped to take a breath and run his trembling fingers through his hair. The entire time Castiel had just been staring at him out of glassy blue eyes, red rimmed but never taking them off of him.

“Jesus, Cas. I could’ve killed Chuck. You know I’ve never had faith in any God and especially not in this one. He went and proved me right. I’ve been wanting to kill that son of a bitch for years but when it came down to it, I didn’t. I didn’t because you said I ain’t that person. And when you said that? I believed you.”

Forcing himself to be brave just for a little while longer, Dean inched forward a little and reached for one of Castiel’s hands. It was cold in Dean’s sweaty palm but he didn’t mind.

Both men looked down at their intertwined fingers when Dean continued, “I push you away all the time and I know that fucking sucks and I hate myself for how I’ve treated you after Mom – but there’s a reason for this. I’m not pushing you away for the fun of it. I’m pushing you away ‘cause I’m fucking terrified of what’ll happen if I don’t. You’re already the best friend I’ve ever had, Cas. I’m scared of what will happen if I let you be more than that.”

At last he looked up. Even after this whole speech, an entire monologue later, Castiel still didn’t look convinced. Looked like he didn’t want to let himself believe that he was hearing right. Dean understood, believe him, he did. But it didn’t help the frustration. He racked his brain desperately trying to come up with different phrasing to make the angel finally believe him, to no avail. Words were hard for him. The right words were almost impossible. He’d always been more of a show rather than tell guy.

Dean paused. He could just show Castiel what he was talking about.

So that’s what he did.

Slowly he stepped impossibly closer to the angel, gave him time to step back or stop him but all he did was look up at Dean in bewilderment. When the hunter raised his hand and carefully cupped Castiel’s face with it, he followed the movement until he went cross-eyes. The sight made Dean smile through the nerves.

Castiel’s blue eyes widened at the close contact as Dean lowered his head to press their foreheads together. “This okay?” he asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper that blew against Castiel’s chapped lips. There was only a tiny nod that Dean took as his cue to close his eyes and meet his lips in a soft, chaste kiss.

The delicate contact could barely count as a kiss. It wasn’t steamy, it wasn’t passionate. But it wasn’t meant to be. Dean was simply trying to convey, trying to make his angel understand what he felt without saying it out loud. Yes, he was a coward for it but there was only so much confrontation and heart-to-heart he could take in one day.

Realizing Castiel was still frozen against him, his lips unmoving, Dean pulled back. Of course he’d messed it up somewhere. It just wasn’t possible for him to actually make something like this work- He didn’t come far, neither with his self-deprecating thoughts, nor with his head before the other man reached around him and grabbed the back of his neck to bring him back down to him.

And suddenly he was kissing back.

It was a bit sloppy, it was unfamiliar and it took them a minute to find a rhythm. It tasted of beer and salty tears – whose, they would never find out. It felt right. It felt like coming home. It felt like the tension that had built up below the surface for twelve years finally broke free and was now slowly dissolving into thin air.

They pulled apart to catch their breath after a while of just exploring newfound possibilities. Dean took his chance and got out the last thing he had to say about this whole ‘declaring your undying love and then getting ganked into a different dimension’ thing.

“You can have me, Cas. You’ve always _had_ me.”

Even after having been kissed, the angel’s mouth was still curled downwards in a doubtful manner. “Do you really mean that? I don’t … You’re not the only one with trust issues.”

Okay, true, Dean had kissed many people in his life time and meant little by it. He deserved that. But he was full of determination to make Castiel see he was speaking the truth. Even if it took him a while. So he smiled patiently, his fingers still stroking the other man’s stubbly cheek. “Good things do happen, Castiel.”

At the mention of his full name and the familiar phrase, there was really nothing for the angel to do but smile involuntarily.

It only took Dean until that night to doubt his decision. They’d gone to bed in their separate rooms, not long after their conversation. Castiel had been up for who even knew how many hours and was absolutely wiped and Dean was just as tired. Though his exhaustion probably came from baring his heart in this wholly unaccustomed way. That’s how he found himself lying in his bed staring at the ceiling, the only sound Miracle’s slight snoring.

There were doubts in his mind, not about his love for Castiel, not even about Castiel’s love for him – curiously that wasn’t what he worried about.

Instead of doing what he was familiar with – spending the entire night overthinking it and pulling apart every thread of the matter until there was nothing but loose stitches – Dean decided to do something else for once. Who knows, maybe this newfound want to communicate wasn’t that bad.

So he slipped out of his room, quietly to not wake his dog and padded over to Castiel’s room. Upon knocking he immediately cursed himself. The angel in fact wasn’t an angel anymore and actually needed sleep. And now he was robbing him of that, too.

Hoping that maybe he hadn’t heard, Dean turned around to return to his room and just do the whole worrying thing the old-fashioned way.

“Dean?” Dean stopped. Yeah, he knew that wouldn’t work.

He faced his angel, his heart filling with fondness at the way Castiel rubbed at the corner of his eye, hair all tousled and borrowed t-shirt and sweatpants creased. “Uh, hi.”

Castiel smiled wearily at him. “What’s wrong, Dean?”

And suddenly, his anxiety and all the thoughts returned and they just flew right out of the hunter’s mouth without filter. “We shouldn’t do this. Us, I mean. You and me. We can’t. In our line of work, this kinda thing always ends badly. Someone is gonna use this against us and one of us’ll get killed over it.”

Dean talked to a spot of dirt on the floor so he didn’t see Castiel’s face darken. His head only snapped up when he heard the furious tone of the angel’s voice. “You listen to me right now, Dean. I know you have an immense amount of commitment issues-“ He didn’t pay any mind to Dean’s protesting _Hey!_ and talked right over him instead, raising his voice all the while. “but you do not get to decide this all on your own. You do not get to tell me all that you did and kiss me and then choose that you don’t want to go down that route after all.

I told you I was content with our friendship as it was but you decided against that. You don’t get to take that back right now just because you’re a little scared. So am I, Dean.” Castiel stepped closer as Dean took a step back only to hit the hallway wall with his back. He gulped. He’d never liked being at the receiving end of the angel’s death stares. “I don’t care if I die – again – as long as I can have this. Have you. It has been too long and in Sam’s words this has gotten ‘freaking ridiculous’ We deserve happiness. You do and I do as well. So get your head out of your ass.”

Human but somehow still looking like an enormous powerful celestial being, Dean couldn’t help but choke out a laugh that became hysterical quickly.

“What’s so funny?” Castiel scowled.

Dean gestured helplessly at him, rumpled clothes, bare feet, bed head and all while he tried to catch his breath and stop laughing. “You are. Former Angel of the Lord turned real boy telling me to get my head outta my ass? It’s freakin’ hilarious, man.”

Castiel still looked a little confused and as if he’d been excluded from playing soccer during lunch break but his face brightened at the improvement of Dean’s mood.

“Does that mean you’ll fulfil my request?”

Finally getting a hold of himself, Dean straightened up and sighed. He smiled up at his angel apologetically. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll get my shit together. As you said, we –“ he hesitated a second, not used to say anything positive about himself but trying anyway because this included _Cas_. “We deserve happiness.”

And if he didn’t return to his lonely bed and snoring dog that night, it was nobody’s business but their own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter consists of some timestamps. i wrote them through the lens of a montage, to show what the boys get up to over the years.

Dean stumbled into the kitchen with a yawn rubbing his eyes, clad in a Zeppelin shirt that had seen better days, his dead guy robe and of course, the hot dog pants he was so fond of.

Sam looked up at him exasperated. “Seriously, dude? You’ve been wearing those pants non stop for like a month. Have you even washed them?”

Dean had the decency to at least look a bit sheepish at that for a second, looking down at the offending piece of clothing. “Well, I… I mean, now that you mention it…”

Hands curled around his favourite coffee mug – one with bumblebees all over it that Dean had bought him at the Dollar General the other day – Castiel rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, Sam. I’ve put them through the wash yesterday when he went to get groceries.”

“You what?” Dean pointed an accusatory finger at his angel. “You said you haven’t seen them when I was looking for ‘em! You lied!”

Turning his annoyed face towards the hunter, Castiel replied, “Yes, I did. I’m a liar. And I’m not even sorry. Those pants have become a safety hazard. You seem to forget that I have to sleep in that room, too.”

With a grumble, Dean filled his own mug to the brim with coffee and slid into the seat next to Castiel’s. “Well, you still lied. So no sex for a week.”

Sam threw up his hands in irritation. “Dude! I really don’t wanna hear that shit!” He grabbed his coffee and laptop and left with one last bitch face thrown at them.

Dean grinned at his retreating brother over the rim of his mug in a way that clearly implied, _Well, if you wanna conspire against the hot dog pants, you can deal with hearing about my sex life._

The smile dropped quickly as he choked on his coffee when suddenly there was a hand too high up on his thigh for the scene to be PG-13 anymore. Castiel leaned in close, the hand tightening just a little and whispered into Dean’s ear, “You wouldn’t even last 3 days.”

The only answer the hunter could give was an audible gulp as he met his angel’s eyes.

In the end, with a lot of… _persuasion_ on Castiel’s part, Dean didn’t last three hours.

* * *

Their first case appeared only a few days after Castiel came back from the Empty. A vampire nest by the looks of it, bodies drained of blood, though there were details about it that didn’t quite add up.

“So why’re they wearing masks? They’re vampires. They bite people. With their teeth. Why do they make their own lives harder by covering their faces?” Dean asked standing over the Impala. They’d just talked to the local police at the crime scene who’d showed them a sketch of the skeleton masks the intruders had been wearing and both brothers had recognized it from a similar drawing in John Winchester’s old journal which Dean was now flipping through.

“Maybe they wanna protect their identity? I don’t know, Dean.” Sam stood across from him and pondered distractedly over a map.

“Vamps Anonymous? Awesome.” He stabbed a finger at a page in the journal. “Aha! Got it! 1986, Dad was working a string of kidnappings along route 77.” He kept reading aloud for Sam to mark on the map. “Kids were taken, the adults that were drained had their-“

“Tongues ripped out,” Sam finished. Huh. Eccentric vampires with a kooky MO. That was a new one, even for them.

The plan they’d come up with to work out where the vampires were hiding out turned out to be smooth sailing. A little dead man’s blood, a litte threatening, a little torturing and bingo.

“You know, I have no idea how Dad ever even finished a single case,” Sam wondered on their way to the abandoned barn where the nest supposedly was. “Feels like we’ve always been the ones left to do his dirty work.”

Dean tilted his head towards his brother, smirking through the windshield at the dark road in front of him. “Yeah, well, not everyone can be as smart and witty as we are.”

“Wait. If I’m the smart one,” Sam looked around the backseat as if he was looking for someone before he turned back to his brother with furrowed brows. “Then who’s the witty one?”

Dean looked at him unimpressed before stopping the car and putting her in Park. “Hilarious, Sam. You’re a comedian.”

They quickly geared up, keeping quiet and using the sign language Eileen had taught them to not alert the vampires of their presence before heading inside. ASL was really proving to be an advantage – communicating without talking was a nice benefit in their line of work, especially when the military hand signs weren’t enough. The barn looked empty on the first glance. Already annoyed that they’d wasted the night coming to the wrong location, Dean moved his flashlight around. The barn looked eerily familiar but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Before he could contemplate it further, he heard a noise in the back. Gesturing at Sam, they snuck closer with raised machetes only to quickly lower them when they opened the door to what looked like a storage room and only found the two missing kids in there.

“Hey, boys. Okay, c’mon. Stay behind us, we’re gonna keep you safe. C’mon,” Dean ushered them out of there, making sure they stayed at their backs. The kids didn’t look at Dean but somewhere behind them with fear on their faces and Dean knew they were fucked.

“Go, go, go. Run,” Sam’s voice ordered lowly, causing the boys to run. Only when he saw that the kids had left the barn safely out of a side door, Dean turned to face the vampires.

“Okay,” he muttered, encouragement for Sam and himself. They could do this. Four vampires, two hunter. Easy as cake.

Each of the brothers focusing on two masked vamps, the fight wasn’t too hard at first. Sam kicked one of them in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards against a bale of hay and focused on making quick process of the other one, cutting his head cleanly off with the metallic clang of his machete sounding through the air before the other man could even stand back up. He’d underestimated the strength of this one however and was shocked when the vampire just picked him up before dropping him down to the ground. The hunter groaned as he hit the floor. Shit, he was gonna feel that in his back for days. Momentarily distracted by fumbling for his blade, Sam didn’t see the punch coming until he was knocked out cold.

In the meantime Dean struggled against one of his vampires, ducking a punch and pushing him back. He sensed the other one behind him, spun around and used the momentum of it to take his head off. Looking over for a second, Dean noticed another headless body. _Two down, two to go. Told ya this was gonna be easy_.

Trying to gain the upper hand against his opponent, Dean only realized that Sam had gone down when it was too late and he was pinned to the floor by the remaining two vampires.

He should really learn to shut up sometimes.

Dean tried to pull free from the arms holding him with a grunt but no dice. He figured he’d end up like Bella freaking Swan in a matter of minutes so he couldn’t quite keep the surprise from his face when instead a woman walked in.

She gestured at him and the two vamp minions pulled him up and positioned him in front of her. “Dean Winchester. Fancy seeing you here.”

Dean looked at her. Dean looked at one vampire. Dean looked at the other.

“Sorry, am I supposed to know you?” Dean cocked his head to the side.

The woman scowled. Apparently not the answer she was looking for. “Jenny. From Manning, Colorado,” at Dean’s confused head shake she growled in frustration. “Luther’s nest! In 2006?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry. It’s been 14 years, uh … Jenny. I don’t really keep in contact with every monster I meet.” Out of the corner of his eye, Dean noticed that Sam had come to and was now slowly inching over to grab the discarded machete just out of reach. So he did what he could do best. He stalled. “Well, regardless, you look good! I mean, a little dead, but good.”

Slightly pleased now, Jenny said, “Thanks.”

“So, what are you, like the big boss or something?” Dean smirked at her.

She shook her head a little and looked him up and down hungrily. And not the kind of hunger Dean liked to see. “No. I just called dibs.”

She bared her fangs, clearly ready for dinner, when Sam jumped up, blade in hand and beheaded her in one smooth move.

Punching the vampire to his left in the balls, Dean immediately jumped after him and got in some more punches.

Sam focused his attention to the last one standing, getting punched once, punching him once before taking his head off as well.

The older Winchester was eventually pushed off his vamp and stumbled back a little. Having lost his balance, it was easy for his opponent to grab him by the shirt collar and run him backwards.

There was a nasty piece of rebar sticking out of a wooden post behind him – Dean had noticed the shine of the dim overhead lamp reflecting off of the metal when they’d first walked in looking for the kids – and the vampire was pushing him straight towards it.

Dean gave up struggling. He let him.

Once he reckoned there were only two steps left before he’d be shish kebab-ed Dean tensed his muscles, dug his heels into the dirt and swung them around abruptly, catching the vampire by surprise and using the momentum to slam him into the metal.

Dean knew it wouldn’t kill him but damn if it wasn’t gonna hurt like a son of a bitch.

“D’you really think I was gonna fall for that?” Dean leaned in close to the masked creature with a smug smirk. “I went up against Hitler, Death and God. And I won each time. Piece of metal ain’t gonna do me in,” Dean bragged, shooting the vampire a wink and a grin before he swung his arm back and buried his machete in the wood of the post, watching the head fly off and land in the dirt with a dull thump while the rest of the body went limp as it hung on the rusty makeshift nail.

Sam came over to where he’d just finished off his last vamp, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and leaving behind a small trail of blood. “What happened to that one?”

“Huh?” Dean was distracted by the blood and motioned to his own forehead to signal to Sam that he should probably try wiping his face again. “Oh, he’s a coat rack now. Figured I’d do some home improvement while we’re here.”

Sam chuckled as he watched Dean lean forward on his knees, breathlessly gulping in air. “You good over there?”

Abruptly Dean straightened up and strove to the door, trying to act physically unaffected by the fight. “Shut up.”

They found the two boys hiding out behind the Impala. Dean quickly threw their machetes into the trunk to not traumatise them any further while Sam ushered them into the backseat. Before Dean slid into the driver’s seat he made an anonymous call to the police about the bodies from one of the cheap burner phones before taking out the prepaid SIM card and breaking it in half.

After they’d dropped the kids off at the police station, making them promise not to tell anyone about what they saw at the barn and making sure they were welcomed by a nice older officer with the promise of hot chocolate, they were on their way home.

“Y’know, what I still don’t get is the masks and the cut out tongues. Like, what kinda self respecting vamp does that?” Dean mused as they hit the dark, empty highway. “Thought that sorta signature was meant for Dahmer or Bundy.”

Sam pushed his hair out of his face and grimaced as it came back sticky with some more blood. “Maybe it’s a metaphor. Maybe the tongues mean they’ve felt silenced by someone or something. And the masks … Maybe those represent whatever was oppressing them. Y’know, faceless figures pulling strings in the background.”

Weirded out, Dean looked over at his brother with an incredulous face. “Alright, Sigmund Freud. You’ve really thought about that, huh. ‘True crime’s not a freaky fetish’, my ass.”

The famous Sam Winchester bitch face stared back when Dean turned his eyes from the road the next time. “I just found it strange so I came up with a theory.”

“Okay. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Dean shook his head with a smirk and accelerated.

It was quiet inside the car for a long time after that. Only the rumble of the engine and the soft music playing lowly on the radio broke the silence. Dean figured Sam had fallen asleep against the window so he was broken out of his own day dreams when his brother cleared his throat.

“So d’you think when Chuck lost his powers he also took our luck away again?” Sam didn’t look at Dean as he murmured the question, opting to stare at the darkness passing by through the window instead.

Dean shrugged one shoulder. “Considering I’ve spent half an hour in the bathroom after that pizza the other day I’m guessin’ yes.”

“You did eat like seven slices,” Sam pointed out.

“Not the point, Sammy. Listen, do we still have our luck or not? I don’t know. But what I do know is the way Dad raised us. Now, was he a neglective drunk asshole who abused us? Yes. Yes, he was. Do I still wanna kick his ass for raising us the way he did, like soldiers? Fuck yes. But what he did teach us is how to hunt. And hell if we don’t make a damn fine pair of hunters, Sam.” He looked over to him to make sure his point was getting across. “Luck or not, we have the _skills_. Because we worked hard for them. Nobody can take that away from us.”

Sam kept silent for a moment. “Huh. I think that’s the first time you actually called him that.”

“Called him what?” Dean asked, his brows furrowed his confusion.

“Abusive.”

“Not like it ain’t true.”

Sam hummed in agreement. “You’re right though. We’ve earned our spot in the hunting world and Chuck had nothing to do with that.”

Dean smirked at the windshield. “Damn right he didn’t.”

The silence settled over them again, both brothers sinking down into their own thoughts. Sam turned his head to look at his brother with a fond smile on his face.

Dean sat in the driver’s seat that had long since become a home to him, shoulders relaxed, eyes wrinkling at the corners with a soft smile in them, his hands were drumming a beat on the leather covered steering wheel as he sang along to the Metallica song blasting out of the speakers.

Was this still the same man who’d once thought he was destined to die young, alone and violently? Who had been suicidal so often without ever daring to call it that? Who had deemed himself worthless and wanted to make sure everyone else saw him the same way? Who had drunk himself into oblivion just so he wouldn’t be able to feel any pain, no matter if it was physical, emotional or from the abundance of grief he’d been through?

Sam couldn’t believe his brother who had literally gone to Hell and back had changed into this man who went on hunts not to kill his own demons but because it was the job he was good at and who looked forward to coming home at the end of the day because he had something to come home _to_. Who had somewhere along the way exchanged the porn mags for cookbooks and baking magazines. Who drank more coffee now than beer – still unhealthy, but hey, baby steps. Who got a freaking dog because for the first time in his life he wasn’t as terrified of losing his loved ones as he had been once – not because he didn’t care about them anymore but because he cared about all of them enough to leave his pessimistic ‘Everbody leaves’ mindset behind and who at last started to let the love into his heart, slowly but surely.

Sam couldn’t believe his big brother who had hated himself with a passion for pretty much all of his life had finally found out that he was worthy of being loved and found comfort in the person he was.

What Sam could believe however – and what he firmly did believe – was that all these things Dean wouldn’t have learned and figured out if it weren’t for the angel on his shoulder. Pardon him, the angel in his bed.

Sam knew who he had to thank for Dean getting better and so he sent a tiny prayer over to Castiel who he knew wouldn’t hear this but well, it was about the principle. He’d just have to make sure to tell him in person later.

Getting through the bunker door turned out to be difficult. Not because of the mechanics of a door – they’d gotten pretty good at opening and closing those. It wasn’t much of a challenge after all, giant dumbass or not.

No, they hadn’t even stepped foot into the bunker before like little kids they were pushing each other, elbows meeting ribs hard and arguing.

“I called dibs on the first shower in the car! Wasn’t my fault you weren’t awake to hear me.”

“Dude, you always get the first shower! It’s not fair!”

“Don’t gotta be fair, I’m the older one so I get privileges-“

Dean stopped in the middle of his sentence and ended up getting shoved against the metal banister. Distracted, he didn’t retaliate because he was busy sniffing the air. “Something smell burnt to you?”

Castiel hadn’t come along on their vamp hunt for two reasons. One, he was newly human – again – and Dean wanted him to get used to it first before taking risks. Of course his angel had huffed and puffed and argued but in the end had stayed home. Not necessarily because the hunter had insisted but because of the second reason: Claire had come through town on her way back from a simple ghost hunt and called them up to see if she could swing by.

So that’s how she and Castiel ended up shuffling out of the kitchen and into the war room with shame on their faces, carrying several plates. Apparently they somehow hadn’t heard the circus of preschool kids squabbling around the entryway as they looked surprised to see them.

“We made dinner!” Castiel tried to perk up but the sheepish expression remained on his face.

Claire grinned at them, all embarrassment gone. “It’s just breakfast food though, I don’t really know how to make anything else.”

The angel looked at the plate in his hands with regret. “I’m afraid we burned the bacon a little though.”

At that, Claire spun around affronted and pointed an accusing finger at him. “ _You_ burned the bacon! I was making pancakes. Which came out perfectly fine, by the way!” The last part she said to Sam and Dean with a proud smile.

Dean exchanged a grin with Sam before he stepped down the staircase and let his duffle bag fall off his shoulder and fall to the ground, making Sam almost trip over it if his muttered “ _Dude_!” meant anything,

Taking the bacon from his angel’s hands, Dean slung his arm around his shoulder. “If having bacon that’s been tortured in the ninth circle of Hell means coming home from a hunt to homemade dinner-“ He led them all to the map table while shoving a strip of bacon into his mouth with a loud crunch, “I’ll gladly take it.”

“By the way, Jody made a pie for you guys that she had me bring. It’s in the kitchen if you want-“

Dean had already started sprinting into the hall, yelling “If she wasn’t my mother figure, I’d marry that woman!” while everyone groaned disgustedly.

The brothers caught Claire and Castiel up on what they’d missed out on – Claire listening with way too much interest in monster hunting for Castiel’s sanity, as always – before Dean mentioned the rebar thing to them.

“Imagine if you’d have been stabbed by that thing and just … died,” Claire chuckled and tried to snatch Castiel’s beer unsuccessfully, raising her arm in resignation at his scowl.

Dean laughed, “What, like an amateur?”

“Wait, and I’d have just let him hang there in this scenario, lettin’ him bleed out slowly?” Sam mused, slightly offended by his imaginary self, his hair flopping around as he shook his head.

“Not like we got like eight people with healing powers on speed dial,” Dean added.

Claire mulled it over for a second. “Don’t you guys have emergency tampons in the trunk for bullet wounds? Could’ve just shoved one of those in to stall the bleeding and driven you to a hospital. Or called an ambulance but the headless bodies might’ve been hard to explain.”

The oldest Winchester raised his bottle in salute. _Claire did make a good point, thinking on her feet like a good hunter does_. “’Dean Winchester, the legend. Nailed to death,’” he smirked. “Does have a nice ring to it. Can you imagine, though? I just, what, die by stupidity?” He turned to Castiel sitting next to him. “Like a week after you sacrifice yourself for me? Just get nailed and be like, alright, this is it, see ya in Hell, bitches!”

Castiel regarded him with a dead expression. “I think I would have punched you. Risen up from the Empty out of pure desire to punch you in the face.”

Laughter echoed in the war room.

* * *

Barging into the kitchen and seeing the scene unfolding, Dean yelled, “Cas! Don’t drink that! You don’t have any idea what’s in it!”

“You’re being ridiculous, Dean. It’s perfectly fine”, replied the angel who had just picked up the glass in front of him.

Dean snatched it right out of his hand and eyed it suspiciously. “Do you know that for sure, though? Could be poison for all you know.”

“But you watched me drink it, just yesterday and I was fine!”, Jack, sitting cross-legged in his chair and playing Angry Birds on his phone, pointed out without looking up from the screen.

With a scoff Dean sniffed at the dubious contents of the glass and screwed up his face in a grimace. Pointing a finger at Jack, Dean argued, “Yeah well, you’re a nephilim. And God, too. I don’t think anything can hurt you much. Cas, however, is human now. I ain’t gonna risk what happens if he drinks this toxic waste.”

Castiel stood up from his seat rolling his eyes impatiently, rounded the table and tried to take his drink back from the hunter without success as Dean held it high over his head. “Dean, this is ridiculous. Even for your standards.”

“ _My_ standards? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying-“

“Guys!” The exasperated shout made the two men turn to the doorway in which Sam had appeared, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “It’s a freakin’ smoothie! Dean, you saw me make it. It’s _healthy_. I know you think healthy means apple pie ‘cause ‘there’s a fruit in there, see, it’s right there on the label.’” Sam lowered his voice an octave to mimic Dean’s who scoffed and mumbled, “That’s not what I sound like” to Castiel out of the side out his mouth.

Sam continued, “But just ‘cause you’re gonna die from organ failure before you’re 50 doesn’t mean Cas isn’t allowed to wanna drink smoothies!”

Castiel looked at the floor now, shifting slightly from one socked foot to the other with a guilty look on his face. “Well, ‘want to’ might be a bit exaggerated…”

Triumphantly, Dean threw a fist in the air and grinned widely at his brother. “Hah! See? I told you!” Of course he hadn’t considered the glass still in his hand – the hand he had raised in victory to be exact – and watched appalled as the thick green muck ran down the glass onto his arm and soaked his sleeve.

Castiel took a few steps away from Dean to make sure he wouldn’t be touched by the stuff.

Even Jack neglected his phone game now to observe the scene with amusement. “That is disgusting.”

Sam let his head hang from his shoulders and threw both hands up in desperation. “I give up. You’ve corrupted them both.”

* * *

Coming home from a successful hunt was one of Dean’s favourite things. Washing the grime, blood and sweat off under a hot shower, cracking open a cold one and indulging in some very unhealthy food that made every artery in Sam’s body shiver in fear? It was awesome.

Today however, his routine was stalled when he hurried after Castiel who as soon as the bunker door was open, ran off into the hallway as if he was being chased by hellhounds. Dean held up a hand at Sam’s questioning face and rushed after his angel.

Castiel had been quiet the whole way back, declining the passenger seat in favour of the backseat and had spent the four hour drive to the bunker staring grimly out the window with a sour face.

Dean had tried to cheer him up, singing along badly to the radio, asking him where he wanted to stop for food but gotten nothing but one word answers in return.

The hunt had been supposed to be a simple, routine salt and burn. They’d gotten quite a few of those lately, since demons roaming Earth had gotten a bit rare after Rowena had taken over Hell.

So they’d rolled up to the house to smoke this bitch out. Turned out though, the ghost they were hunting had been a tiny bit more powerful than they anticipated. All three of them ended up getting thrown around some. Dean knew he had a bruised rib or two, Sam had a nasty gash on his temple from getting shoved into a glass cabinet and Castiel …

Well, that’s the thing. Castiel had grunted he was fine and stomped right outside when they finally burned the golden locket that tied the spirit to this realm.

At the question if he was hurt, the angel had just shook his head and climbed into the car.

Now Dean wasn’t stupid. He knew he wasn’t the best role model as far as admitting that you’re hurt went. So naturally he’d come to the conclusion that Castiel must have gotten hurt, hadn’t wanted to appear weak and kept his injuries to himself while sulking in the car.

So that’s why the hunter ran after his angel to their room, making a quick detour to grab one of the many first aid kits they stored basically everywhere out of the bathroom.

He slowed his pace down when he got close to the bedroom like he was approaching a wounded animal, wary of scaring it.

“Hey, Cas,” he said, smiling at him and closing the door with his foot. “Lemme check over you quickly, make sure Casper back there didn’t get you too bad?”

Castiel didn’t look up from where he was sitting on the bed, one of Dean’s favourite books on his lap. “I’m fine, Dean.”

The hunter scoffed. “Yeah, I’ve heard that lie before. Hell, I’ve taught you that lie. So how ‘bout you tell me where it hurts and we can make this quick, huh?”

“I am not lying. I’m not injured.” Castiel glared at him, irritation clearly visible but something else shone in his eyes that Dean couldn’t quite decipher.

He sat down next to him on the bed and made sure his voice was gentler this time. “You gonna tell me why you’ve been sulking the whole drive back, then?”

“I wasn’t ‘sulking.’”

The air quotes were back and Dean allowed him a second to smile before he got serious again.

“Cas, we’ve been through this whole not communicating thing before and honestly, it’s gettin’ old. Please just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it?”

Castiel sighed frustratedly, throwing his hands up. “That’s the thing, Dean. There’s nothing to fix. I know you desperately want to mend every issue anyone has but this isn’t something you can repair.” Dean kept his eyes on his angel, waiting patiently because he knew this was the best way to make him open up. Just wait and listen. And it worked like a charm, each time, he thought as he watched Castiel bury his face in his hands as he quietly admitted, “The problem isn’t that I was hurt, Dean, it’s that _you_ were. You and Sam were injured and there wasn’t anything I could do. I don’t have my grace anymore and I thought I’d gotten used to it by now but I watched you get thrown around today and I realized, there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t heal you, I couldn’t teleport us out of there, I could just stand there and watch.”

The sight of his angel trembling, still not looking at him, broke something in Dean. He reached forward and pulled him against his chest, _Slaughterhouse-Five_ hitting the ground in the process. “Cas, you didn’t just watch. You found the locket and you burned it. You made sure Sam and I didn’t get killed. Yeah, sure, we’re a bit roughed up, but we’re fine! We all survived and that’s what matters.”

“But what if you didn’t?” Castiel raised his head to meet Dean’s eyes with desperation written on his face. “You survived this time, but what if next time you don’t? And it’s all because I can’t heal you or because I can’t find the locket or whatever it will be in time.”

Dean took his face in his hands. “Cas, you gotta listen to me. We made it outta there today ‘cause you make a damn fine hunter. You don’t need your grace to help. You just do what you always do, trust your guts and do the right thing. It’s what you did today and it’s what got us outta there. Hell, Sammy and me got slammed around like nerds on the playground and you’re the one who figured out it was the locket and dusted the fucker.” He tilted Castiel’s head and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Grace or no grace, Cas. You’re helping even if you don’t realize it.”

Castiel let himself be held for a long while after that. They eventually moved under the covers and laid intertwined with each other, neither able to sleep.

The angel closed his eyes as he let himself admit, “I miss sensing your soul. It’s strange not knowing how you feel even when you’re in another room.”

Dean thought about an answer for a moment. He hated that there really was little he could do but be here for Castiel. “Guess that means we should finally work on those communication skills Sammy always goes on about, huh?”

Castiel chuckled wearily. His voice was barely a whisper when he said, “I miss my wings, too. I know I couldn’t use them anymore after the angels fell but they were still there, you know? They were still a part of me. A comfortable weight behind me and now that they’re gone … I feel out of balance. Like someone ripped a set of limbs from me.”

Dean made the executive decision to do everything in his power to make his angel feel better.

So he wrapped him in the fluffiest blanket he could find, got him some PB&J and cuddled him thoroughly while they watched some documentary about bees that Castiel followed with interest as Dean tried not to fall asleep. Miracle did his best from Castiel’s other side, having sensed the distress in the angel as well and wanting to help.

The hunter knew this wouldn’t be the last time he’d hear of these issues but he was prepared to convince his angel of his worth as a human every day if he had to. He’d catch Castiel every time he fell and make him believe what he saw in him.

* * *

“We’ve done it, guys,” Dean announced, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose where they had slid down. “This is where we peak at life.”

Sam and Castiel sat on either side of him in their folding chairs, laughing at his antics.

All three of them looked hideous but that had kind of been the point when Dean had ordered them around the store earlier, finding the most colourful Hawaiian shirts the shop had to offer. Sam and Castiel had just gone along with it, neither finding it in their heart to wipe the wide grin off Dean’s face.

Not even the ridiculously tiny umbrella in his cocktail could bring the hunter’s mood down. In fact, it only made him more excited. He didn’t know when he was at a beach the last time. Hell, he didn’t remember ever being to a beach in the first place. So of course he’d had to go all out. They deserved it, damnit.

The sand would be a bitch to get out of the various crevices of his body but that was a problem for Future Dean, he figured, as he leant over to rest his head on Castiel’s shoulder.

Sam had gone to get them all some food and check in with Eileen who had stayed behind to go visit Mildred in her retirement home and make sure the old lady wasn’t bothering all the male nurses too much.

Coming back, he stopped where the concrete walkway turned into sand and just watched his brother and his best friend. They had moved from the beach chairs to the sand. Apparently Castiel had finally given in to Dean’s nagging and was now being buried in the sand.

All in all, Sam mused, nothing much had changed since they’d gotten their heads out of their asses. They still bickered like an old married couple, still fought fiercely only to make up soon after because neither could stay away from the other for long and they still shared those lingering stares that suggested they were communicating on a whole different plane of existence while the rest of the world could only shuffle their feet awkwardly and wait for the two of them to return to reality.

The only thing that had really changed was their moods. Where once both had been prone to grumpiness and frustration, a lot of anger in Dean’s case, now they were exchanging fond smiles and soft lingering touches. They seemed to always be touching in some way. Fingers intertwined, hands on waists, arms around shoulders. It was almost as though they both needed to make sure the other was still there, reassuring themselves that the days of being abandoned were over for good.

Sam was over the moon whenever he saw Dean interact with Castiel, especially in public. His brother had spent his whole life not only afraid of commitment but also afraid of portraying any kind of emotion. Seeing him now, comfortable with showing off his obvious love for the guy and even further looking finally content in his own skin? There were no words for the happiness and pride Sam felt for his big brother.

They were still the stubborn idiots Sam was used to but now they were idiots in love. Well, Sam conceded, idiots who knew that their love was reciprocated.

Finally joining them, foregoing his chair to lower himself onto the towel spread out next to aforementioned idiots, Sam distributed the food amongst them.

“Got Mexican, figured you wouldn’t like the poke bowls I was eyeing.”

Dean looked at him weirdly while unwrapping the tinfoil from his taco. “You wanna eat Pikachu?”

“That’s Pokémon, Dean. Poke bowls are – nevermind.”

The hunter took a big bite and threw his trash to the side only to grab it again and neatly place it inside the green cooler they had brought over from the car when Castiel raised an eyebrow at him warningly. Sam chuckled. _Who knew Dean could be tamed after all?_

Pausing in his chewing, Dean opened up the crunchy shell a bit further, poking his nose inside to investigate. “These tacos taste funny to you?” he asked before he shrugged and took another bite.

Next to him, Sam went still. Dean glanced at him from the side and promptly did a double take. His brother had gone white as a sheet and looked at him with a mix of horror and expectation.

“What? I got somethin’ on my face?” Dean asked around his full mouth.

Sam just shook his head slowly and finally forced himself to relax again after Dean had finished his food and no alarm clock began shouting ‘80s rock at him. “Nothing. Just … freaky déjà vu.”

Dean eyed him over his sunglasses for a second before letting it go and going back to crafting wings out of sand to either side of his angel. “Alright. Weirdo.”

* * *

“Ow! Fuck! I’m gonna kill you, you son of a bitch!”

“Dean, it’s a barrel of beer. I hardly think it deserves death just because you got a splinter from it.”

“Whose side are you even on, Judas?”

Castiel looked at Dean for a long moment, face entirely unimpressed from the bad bible joke, before he turned on his heels and walked to the backroom to grab some tweezers. “The barrel’s. It clearly has the higher chance of winning.”

Dean stuck his tongue out behind him – he was a very mature adult, yes, thank you very much – before bending down and hoisting the offending barrel up onto the counter.

The hunter gave himself a minute to catch his breath. He’d been running around the place all day to make sure everything was ready for the grand opening tomorrow. If it would be all that grand, he didn’t know. He knew Sam, Eileen and Baby Maura would come. Jody, Donna and the girls had also promised to make the trip even though Dean told them it wasn’t a big deal if they didn’t, he knew it was a long drive. The two sheriffs had shut him right up.

Bobby was basically part of the interior already, to no one’s surprise. _Never sayin’ no to some free booze, son_.

Even Charlie and Stevie had confirmed their invitations even though they’d just come back jetlagged from their honeymoon in London yesterday.

Dean checked off his mental checklist as he circled around the bar room. The wooden floor was swept, the dark oak countertop had been wiped down, the shelves behind it were stocked with any kind of alcoholic beverages you could ask for – safe for the bottle of vodka Castiel had taken a liking to that had disappeared under mysterious circumstances – the mirror the shelves were mounted on was cleaned.

The dim lamps hanging above the bar counter, the few tables lining the opposite wall and the pool table in the small adjacent room were all filled with functioning light bulbs.

Beer bottles were chilling in the fridge under the bar top, more were stocked in the big one sitting in the storage room and the neon signs advertising several different brands of the stuff were all in working condition.

One of the signs still made Dean laugh. He’d struck a deal with some random dude from Texas he’d found during his research who sold his beer out of his aptly named brewery. The hunter had found the coincidence way too hilarious to pass up and so one of the neon signs proudly declared “Family Business Brewery.”

Dean hadn’t ever allowed himself to dream of a place like this but after Michael had hidden him away in a corner of his mind to let him fantasize about Rocky’s Bar … The idea had stuck ever since.

Of course he had never planned to realize the day dream but one night he’d made the mistake of telling Castiel about it.

“What’s stopping you?” he’d asked. “Sam’s moved out and has an adorable little family, the hunter network the two of you have started back up is working perfectly, the bunker will be fine on its own considering it will still be standing long after everyone we know is gone … So what’s stopping you?”

And after days of pondering the question, Dean hadn’t found an adequate answer.

So he’d bitten the bullet and actually bought himself a bar. With the golden ticket credit card and counterfeit documents of course – hey, he was legally dead and probably still wanted by the FBI after all – but it was still his most priced possession. After Baby, naturally, Dean quickly added and blew a kiss out the window next to the door where he could see the Impala’s impeccable paint job gleaming in the sun in her assigned parking spot.

Occasionally Dean regretted deciding on the name “Rocky’s.” It brought back the terror of being possessed by Michael, the fear he’d lived in.

_Happy thoughts, happy thoughts_ , he reminded himself as he clenched his fists, forcing his mind away from the douchebag angel. The movement drew his attention to his hand. Adorning his left ring finger was the slim silver band that matched the one Castiel wore. The sight instantly conjured up a smile on Dean’s face.

Love, joy, happiness and the promise that _No, Cas, I won’t use the ring as a bottle opener again, I swear_ warmed his heart.

Speak of the devil. Castiel came back out the next room, Miracle who had apparently decided to grace them with his presence after a satisfactory nap, trotting over alongside him, tweezers and two stacks of paper in his hands. “These are the receipts for the last of the deliveries that came in today. Thought you might want to look through them.”

Castiel looked up from the document with a slight grin. He’d quickly caught on to the fact that Dean was a bit of a control freak when it came to his bar. Not that it surprised the angel. Rare were the situations that he was allowed behind the Impala’s steering wheel. _Only in emergencies, Cas._

Then the angel put down the second stack on the bar top. “And that’s the last documents we still have to sign for the house.”

Shortly after they’d found and bought the bar, Dean had cautiously brought up moving out of the bunker. “It’s just, you know, the bar is a bit too far away to constantly make the drive back and forth. Living closer would just be more convenient and look, there’s a house for sale just a couple blocks down, it’s even close to Sam and Eileen’s neighbourhood.”

Dean had rambled on for a while, his nerves not letting him register that Castiel had been accepting the not very well hidden offer to move in with him – really move in together, into their own place – until he put his hand across the mouth and basically shouted, “Yes, Dean, I want to buy a house with you.”

Turning off the lights and shutting the door to the bunker the last time had been difficult. Dean’s heart ached a little at leaving behind the first home he’d ever really known. The memories they’d made here were special but with that thought he’d also realized the memories weren’t going anywhere. They would always be with him and now he was about to go make new, even better ones. This in mind, it had been easy to lock the door behind him with a smile.

It wasn’t as if the Men of Letters hideout would stay empty forever, either. The network Sam had started had an extra category now. Safespots. The bunker now functioned as a place for hunters to stop for the night – or longer, if they needed – gather information and data and just somewhere to rest for a minute.

It was what it had been to Sam and Dean – a home for a while.

Only now it was open for everyone in need of a home.

Dean let his angel pull out the piece of wood stuck in his hand, if only to ease his eternal worrying and then wrapped his arms around him, resting his head on his shoulder.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

Castiel rolled his eyes but smiled warmly. “’She’ is a bar, Dean. I don’t know if a bar can be beautiful. But we did a very good job fixing her up from the dusty pigsty it used to be. _You_ did a very good job and I’m extremely proud of you.”

The blush that followed the praising words made Dean’s freckles stand out on his skin. “Couldn’t’ve done it without you.”

“In that case, I’m proud of _us_.”

Not even remotely surprising to anyone, it didn’t even take Claire and Jack a week before conspiring against Dean. And so one day he walked into his bar – that should’ve been locked, thanks Sam, for guarding the spare key with your life – and was greeted with the biggest gay pride flag known to mankind hanging from the back wall.

* * *

“Seriously, Sam, _pink_ spray paint?”

With a grimace, Dean scrutinized the remnants of pigment that hadn’t come off no matter how many times he’d washed his hands at the gas station restroom as he unlocked the door to their house. “That Rapunzel hair finally get to you or why’d you get pink paint?”

Sam stepped inside after Castiel and shrugged off his jacket as he kicked the door shut. “I told you, Dean. It’s all they had left in stock. They didn’t have any red and I don’t think you’d have liked the pearlescent baby blue any better.”

Dean screwed up his face even more as he imagined a sparkly demon trap. He shuddered dramatically before he dropped down to the floor to wrap his arms around Miracle who came running down the hallway to welcome them home.

Claire trailed after him lazily and raised a hand in greeting; she’d watched the dog while they were gone on a hunt. It was rare for them nowadays to hit the road and deal with the things that went bump in the night – there were enough young hunters to pass the torch to – but a demon had gone rogue and Rowena had called them to ask for – nay, demand – their assistance as she didn’t want to get her new pair of high heels dirty. So they’d gone, found the demon, got teased for their choice in spray paint and exorcised the demon for Rowena to deal with in Hell. The poor dude he’d possessed had been confused and traumatised by the three grown men pointing various weapons at him, but overall he’d be fine.

“So what movie are we on for tonight?” Claire asked as she flopped down on the couch and flipped through the channels.

Monthly hangouts had become a quick tradition around here. Every four weeks, Sam, Dean, Castiel and Jack would get the band back together and enjoy each other’s company for an evening. It hadn’t been as difficult as they’d thought it would be to convince Jack to leave his God business be for just a couple hours; Castiel suspected he’d missed his family just as much as they missed him. Claire had been around the second or third time and immediately made herself a permanent fixture for these nights.

Her and Jack had become fast friends, mostly because of the shared father figure they saw in Castiel, Dean assumed and maybe because they both favoured the lovely pastime of making Dean’s life hell. The pranks he’d been subjected to, he knew, were Claire’s doing. Jack was too sweet to plan something like covering Baby in her entirety with post it notes or filling her up to the brim with pennies.

Claire had immediately taken to the role of a protective older sister though, uncaring that the kid she saw as a little brother in need was more powerful than anyone else in the universe. She’d also, in Dean’s humble opinion, been an awful influence on him, he mused with a fond smile.

The first time they’d went to play minigolf instead of watching a movie – mostly because Dean and Claire hadn’t stopped arguing over whether to watch Harry Potter or Indiana Jones and Sam had put a stop to it by announcing they were all going for a drive, post it notes still partially attached to the Impala’s hood – it had been a disaster. Sam had spent the evening trying to explain the game to Castiel and Jack and was almost knocked out by a golf club when he turned his back. To this day no one remembered if it was one of the beginners; all of them however suspected it had actually been Dean but couldn’t prove it since Claire had been quick to give him a solid alibi.

In the end they had been kicked out of the place because Dean signed “ _Fuck you_ ” at one of the employees who told him to quit yelling Caddyshack references every two minutes. As luck would have it the staff member knew ASL. So then they had to change their minigolf course to another one, much to everyone’s chagrin. Except Claire’s because she now knew how to insult cops without them noticing.

Castiel’s only hope was that Jack wouldn’t be corrupted too much. He’d already given up all hope for Claire.

Today would have been a minigolf kind of night – they alternated, neither Sam nor Castiel willing to put up with the pure chaos that radiated into the atmosphere any time Dean, Claire and Jack were allowed together into public every month – but considering the next course they were actually allowed in was an hour away, they’d opted for movie night. Sam was secretly relieved. Enduring Dean on a hunt was exhausting enough. At least the movie would force him to shut up for some time.

Jack was supposed to appear soon – knowing him, he’d probably teleport right into the kitchen to steal a piece of the pie Dean had baked yesterday. Sometimes Kaia and Eileen joined as well but both were busy today so in the end it was only the five of them plopping down in the living room.

Sam had forced all his limbs into the armchair with Miracle flopped down around his feet while Jack and Claire occupied the sofa closer to the coffee table filled with snacks. Jack’s mouth was already around a bar of nougat while Claire chewed openly around a handful of chips, telling a story about the arcade date she had been on with Kaia last week. “I’m telling you, we totally beat your highscore, old man.”

“It’s just not possible. I’ve been ahead 10,000 points for years. No one’s ever beat me. I don’t believe you.” Dean smirked at her from where he was lying down on the other couch, Castiel curled up against him, a bowl of popcorn balancing precariously on his stomach.

Claire watched the screen for a minute before swallowing and turning back to Dean, grinning widely at him. “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

Needless to say, the movie playing on the wide screen TV mounted on the wall was _The Empire Strikes Back_ and Claire’s quote started the endless back and forth of references.

Once the both of them finally caught on to Sam and Castiel’s annoyed faces – please, just let them watch one movie in peace, have mercy on them – Dean settled back into the warm, cozy spot next to his angel. Castiel stopped watching the battle happening on the screen before long to just stare up at the hunter through his lashes.

He’d seen the movie before; Dean had made him watch it so he was allowed to lose himself in gazing at his face. He watched his expressions change from anticipation – as if he didn’t have the whole saga memorized by heart, Castiel thought as he rolled his eyes – to excitement, to laughter. Castiel found himself falling more in love with Dean each and every day. The way he experienced emotion so wholly even as he tried so hard to deny himself any portrayal of it fascinated the angel. No human had ever peaked his attention the way Dean Winchester had. When he had still been an angel, the interest in the hunter had been mostly curiosity. At least, that’s what he thought at the time. As time went on however and Castiel fell more and more away from Heaven’s grasp, he started to doubt the neutrality to his feelings. When he became human the first time, Castiel had finally been able to put a name to them.

The way his heart had screamed at the sight of Dean that day at the Gas’n’Sip had terrified him. Human feelings had been a whole different level but he’d soon realized the feelings he had towards Dean had been hiding within him for quite a while. As an angel he had just been better at suppressing them. Relief had flooded him when he got his grace back, hoping he could finally go back to seeing Dean as nothing more than his friend. He quickly came to find out however, that wasn’t how this worked. Once he was aware of what he felt, there was apparently no going back. So he’d done his best to hide the feelings, to build a wall around his heart.

To no avail. Dean just had a way of smashing the stones down and making himself at home within the borders.

Peeking at his angel to see if he was finding the scene as funny as he did, he realized Castiel hadn’t been paying attention. Assuming he’d be in for a lecture about the importance of filmmaking, the angel was surprised when Dean’s expression softened and only pressed a kiss to his nose, making it scrunch up.

Castiel beamed up at him and whispered, “I love you.”

Dean stayed silent for a second. He felt the same way of course and he’s told his angel before, in a quiet moment, just the two of them. But the hunter still had trouble saying it in front of other people so he only said, “Me too.” For now, that was enough.

“Aw!” came the immediate reaction from the peanut gallery while Castiel dropped his head on Dean’s chest, feeling the hunter’s hand reach into the bowl and throw popcorn at all three annoying guests.

Castiel smiled before picking up his head to glare at Dean annoyed. He’d be the one who’d have to clean that!

* * *

Dean stood in Sam’s bedroom, staring down at what he’d just dug out of the nightstand drawer when he heard footsteps coming down the hall.

“Hey, Cas? C’mere a second.”

More shuffling and then Castiel’s face appeared around the half open door. “Yes?”

The hunter held up the velvet box, open to reveal shiny jewellery. “This a wedding ring, right?”

“Yes, where did you find that?” His angel stepped closer and took it from him to further inspect.

Dean smirked. “Drawer of Sammy’s nightstand.”

Castiel looked up at him, a brow raised inquiringly. “And what were you doing in there?”

“Well, Sam didn’t turn his alarm off before leaving for Eileen’s and it woke me this morning so I was gonna…” His grin disappeared quickly at the disapproving glare thrown his way. He couldn’t believe he was feeling chastised by an eyebrow. “Put my dirty socks in his drawer.”

The frown deepened. Dean scoffed. “Shut up, it would’ve been hilarious.”

He quickly closed his hands around the now closed box being shoved at him before the angel left the room. “Put that back where you found it.”

The hunter obliged before he picked up the pile of socks he’d dropped upon his discovery.

“And don’t you dare put your dirty laundry in there!”

Dean groaned. This whole pranking stuff had been easier before dating an angel who actually gave a shit about him treating his brother nicely.

Sam barely had a foot through the bunker door when he came back that weekend from spending a couple days at Eileen’s, before he was crushed in a hug. “I’m proud of you, Sammy.”

The younger man looked down at the head of hair in confusion before catching Castiel’s eyes over the metal railing. Castiel sighed deeply and raised his hands in an exasperated manner. “He found the ring box. Sorry.”

Sam’s eyebrows dropped into a bitch face as he shoved Dean off him and looked at him for an explanation.

Of course he didn’t get one.

What Dean said instead was, “Dude, you’re gonna be married! That’s so awesome, Sam. I mean, Eileen’s way outta your league of course and if she’s smart she’ll run an not look back but hot damn, Sammy! Marriage! That’s big, man!”

Honestly, Sam tried to be mad at his brother. He really did. But seeing him so happy for him? Seeing the wide smile on his face, relaxed in a way that he hasn’t seen in … Hell, years? Decades? Sam couldn’t take this away from him. He didn’t want to.

So he just huffed a small laugh, letting his nerves at the whole ordeal show. “Yeah, well she’s still gotta say Yes. Not sure how that’s gonna work out, so…”

Dean almost looked offended by that. “Don’t you dare think like that! She loves you, you love her, it’ll be fine. She looks at you like you hung the moon! She’ll totally say Yes.”

“Yeah you’d know all about looking at someone like they hung the moon, don’t you?” Sam smirked down at Castiel who smiled back proudly.

Dean however ducked his head and crossed his arms sheepishly. “Shuddup, bitch.”

A thought crossed Sam’s mind then and he clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “So, you gonna be my best man if she agrees on this whole thing, jerk?”

When Dean’s head shot up and he stared at him with glassy eyes in wonder and unveiled joy, nodding frantically, Sam knew he didn’t ever stand a chance to be mad at him for going through his stuff.

Naturally, Eileen had said Yes.

Sam and her quickly agreed to not make a whole big thing out of it and decided to just have a small, quiet ceremony. A casual affair with their closest friends and family. Which meant mostly Sam’s family, considering Eileen’s parents had been killed when she was just a baby and the hunter who had raised her had died as well.

That still left the Winchester’s group of friends who had taken Eileen in as soon as they’d met her.

So that’s how they’d found themselves sitting in the pews, inside a small church. Sunlight was streaming in through the stained glass windows high up on the walls, painting translucent squares of colors onto the floor. Tall vases of yellow, orange and red flowers flanked the aisles on either side, leading from the closed doors all the way to the altar that was decorated with the same flowers and matching ribbons.

Sam stood next to the pastor, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt until Dean stepped forward and slapped at his fingers warningly. Across from him, Castiel smiled at them both warmly, holding tightly onto the box in his hands that looked like the one in Dean’s hand.

She’d been integrated into the Winchester’s circle of people as soon as Sam had introduced her, but Eileen had found a kindred spirit in Castiel. They’d both started chattering amongst themselves in ASL the minute Castiel had come back, signing words so fast Sam and Dean had given up on following the conversation almost immediately.

And then one day, not long after Sam had popped the question, Eileen had asked Castiel to be her – in lack of a better word – maid of honor. Unfazed by the terminology as Dean had known he would be, the angel had agreed enthusiastically, though really, he didn’t know all that much about weddings.

Despite his lack of background knowledge, the bride didn’t have a reason to complain. To make up for his inexperience, Castiel had forced Dean to watch any and all movies about weddings he could find, always accompanied by the hunter’s whining of course, and binge watched _Say Yes To The Dress_ – all 300+ episodes of it – in record time.

The dress Eileen had said Yes to in the end was a stunning white number. It was cinched in at the waist and had beautiful lace detailing all around the top part before flaring out in a wide, flowy skirt that ended around her knees.

It had also come directly out of Mildred Baker’s storage. They’d had a grand time sifting through dresses upon dresses, some more modest, some straight from the stage performances Mildred had enjoyed in her youth.

The dress hadn’t fit her at first and Eileen had been sad until she told Castiel about it and he surprised everyone in the room – including Dean who never let him out of his sight for long – when he told her it wasn’t a problem. He was handy with a sewing machine. If Mildred didn’t mind, he could adjust it to fit her.

That’s how Eileen knew she’d picked the right person for the job.

After that it had only been a matter of sending out invitations, faking a birth certificate for Sam – thanks, Charlie! – and Sam’s bachelor party that ended up with all of them just sitting in a bar drinking beer, downing shots and playing pool. Maybe they’d gotten too old for wild parties, Dean had mused but Sam had let him know it was perfect. They didn’t need anything more.

Everyone settled down and turned to watch the door when the music started up. Dean made a face. He’d suggested REO Speedwagon’s _Keep on Loving You_ but Sam and Eileen had just looked at him with slight disdain and went back to their original conversation while Dean rolled his eyes. _Boring_ , he thought when he heard the familiar first notes of the Wedding March played. Dean had watched so many rom-coms by now that he was hearing the song play in his dreams.

The doors opened and in walked Eileen, being escorted by Mildred. Dean kept his eyes on his brother’s face. He watched the expression turn from anxious to amazed, stunned, speechless. He looked like he couldn’t believe his luck and with a short glance to Castiel standing on the other side of the aisle, Dean could imagine what Sam was feeling. In the end, the younger Winchester settled on a goofy smile that made him look like a happy puppy. It never left his face throughout the ceremony and the reception afterwards.

It was a couple of months later that Castiel woke up later than Dean. This wasn’t all that unusual but normally the hunter stayed in bed with him so they could get some morning cuddles in. Therefore the former angel was slightly perplexed by waking up alone in bed. He shrugged it off though to go investigate the smell of food faintly wafting through the bunker. Miracle at his heel, he padded to the kitchen to find a plate full of waffles drowning in maple syrup and perfectly crisp bacon at his seat across from Dean.

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty,” he greeted as he pointed at the coffee mug. “Just filled it, should still be hot.”

Castiel nodded his thanks and dug into his breakfast. He was only half a human being in the mornings. Dean raised his eyebrow at him but kept quiet, sipping from his own mug occasionally and watching his angel eat.

When his food was gone and only drudges of his coffee remained, Castiel finally asked, “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

Dean shrugged, going for nonchalant but failing as he was scratching the back of his neck. “Nothin’. Just admiring the view.”

Castiel flushed a little but didn’t let it go. He knew the hunter was hiding something. He also knew exactly how to get him to talk so he just settled back in his seat and stared at him unblinkingly.

Like clockwork, Dean began to shift nervously before long. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” came the automatic response from the smiling man across from him.

Dean sighed dramatically to cover up the nervousness that was starting to set in before he brought up the hand that had been hiding under the table and set down a simple black box on the table. “No, I really don’t. That’s why I got you that.”

Castiel looked at the box, up at Dean and then back down. Puzzled, he carefully picked it up and slowly opened it like he was scared something would jump out at him.

Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat and rubbed his hands across his face before he started, “I know you said at Sam and Eileen’s wedding that knowing we-“ The word still didn’t come easily to him but it felt more natural every time he said it, “love each other was enough for you and that you don’t need anything else. And I agree, like I told you. I don’t need to make it a big thing, especially ‘cause I’d probably shit myself saying all that romantic ass crap in front of all those people.” Dean knew he was rambling but Castiel just kept alternating to stare between the thin silver rings and up at his face with wonder. “So it’s not a wedding ring but I still wanted you to have something to remind you that we’re- That you’re mine. And that I’m yours.”

There. It was out now and now the ball was in Castiel’s court.

“Dean.” The word was said so gentle, so reverently that Dean’s heart swelled in his chest and threatened to just jump right out of his ribcage. “Thank you. These are beautiful.”

He took one of the rings out of the box, gingerly as though it was the most precious of treasures and held it up. Then he gestured to Dean’s hand. “Come on then.”

The hunter didn’t know what he’d expected but it certainly wasn’t tearing up as they tenderly slipped the simple bands engraved with Enochian symbols that meant “For all eternity” onto each other’s fingers, not letting go of their intertwined hands for a long time after.

The brothers had come a long way, Dean mused some time later, lying in bed at night, running a hand through his sleeping angel’s hair and watching the silver of the ring reflect the dim lamp on his bedside table. From the siblings attached at their hips who’d jumped feet first into trouble and stumbled over each other to volunteer for the next sacrificing session to two guys with partners at their side who were actually settling down. Dean suppressed a laugh. If you’d told him they would turn out this way when he was standing outside Sam’s dorm all those years ago, he’d have knocked you out before you could finish the sentence.

* * *

Dean sat on Eileen’s couch, beer in hand, football game on silent on the TV, looking out the front window at the bustling street. They’d moved into a quiet neighbourhood but a nice fall day like this tended to coax everyone outside for what might be the last warm day of the year.

He was so deep into thoughts that he jumped a little when a warm hand settled on his shoulder. He looked up and promptly stood to embrace the woman standing next to the sofa he’d sat on. “Mildred! How ya doin’, beautiful?”

The older woman had been here since Dean and Castiel had arrived but she was deep into what looked like serious conversation with Eileen in the kitchen so after Sam had welcomed them at the door, he’d let himself be led to the living room and gratefully taken the offered beer. Where his angel had disappeared to, Dean had no idea.

“Ah well, you know how life is. There’s good, there’s bad,” she wiggled her eyebrows. “There’s _really_ good.” She’d apparently been ‘in the area’ as Sam had told him.

“In the area, huh? What’s a nice girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” he asked, sitting down and petting the seat next to him.

She sat and winked at him with that smug smile she had. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

Dean threw his head back with laughter.

Mildred regarded him with a warm smile before she cleared her throat. “So, speaking of really good times. Looks like you finally got the stick outta your cute little butt and decided to put an end to all that pining, huh?” She looked pointedly over her shoulder. Dean followed her gaze with a smile taking over his face as he watched Castiel help Sam set the table.

“It uh, it was more him that decided to put an end to it, actually. Said he’d loved me and then he died.” He took a sip of his beer. “Literally.” Seeing the bewilderment on Mildred’s face, he was quick to add, “But obviously he’s fine now. It’s- honestly, it’s a bit of a long story. And probably pretty boring.”

Though she didn’t look like she would have particularly minded hearing it, long as it might be, Mildred decided for a more essential question. Her face smoothed into a serious expression Dean had never seen on her before. “Are you happy with him?”

Dean chuckled softly before he looked back at his angel who met his eyes for a second and waved awkwardly before turning back to sign something at Eileen.

Just a year before, he’d have laughed at anyone who dared ask him if he was happy, would have figured they were joking. Just a year before he hadn’t allowed himself to ever even imagine what ‘happiness’ could look like for him. He surprised himself a little when he could honestly answer, “Happier than I’ve been my entire life.”

Mildred took in the heart-eyes the man displayed and laid a hand on his arm to bring his attention back to her. She leaned in close, wearing a conspiring expression. “Then you hold onto him. You hear me, Dean? As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters. The rest is confetti.”

Dean smiled warmly at her for a second before it turned into a surprised grin. “Wait a minute, you’ve been watching Haunting of Hill House!”

He burst into laughter as he jumped into a lengthy discussion of all the plot twists the Netflix show had come up with and all the ghosts that had hidden in the background.

Across the room, Castiel couldn’t help watching the both of them – well, frankly he stared at Dean. Eileen elbowed him lightly before bumping her knuckled against the bottom of his jaw. “Shut your mouth, you’ll catch a fly.”

Soon after, they were all sitting around the table holding their stomachs after practically inhaling the roast Eileen had cooked up. Sam and her looked at each other in that way couples do that indicated there was an entire conversation going on that no one else was privy to before they reached for each other’s hands and turned their wide smiles to the rest of the table.

Dean knew. He didn’t know how exactly he did, call it a mother’s instinct as he had basically taken over that job growing up, but he understood exactly what was going on the second his eyes set on the happy tears already pooling in his brother’s eyes.

“We have something to tell you guys,” he began at the same time that Eileen signed as she spoke the words that made goosebumps appear on everyone in the dining room. “I’m pregnant.”

Out of his seat and around the table before he knew he was moving, Dean vigorously pulled his little brother up and into a big hug. They didn’t say anything. They were Winchesters, no words were needed in an emotional situation like this.

Dean pulled away, his own cheeks wet before embracing Eileen the same way, only a little more gentle considering she was carrying what one day would become his niece or nephew. The thought struck Dean unexpectedly and he pulled away all of a sudden. He looked between Sam and Eileen and back again, his mouth working around the tears streaming down his face steadily before finally he choked out, “I’m gonna be an uncle?”

There was more laughter and nods from his family before he repeated, more certain this time and more cracks in his voice. “I’m gonna be an uncle!”

Dean turned his unbelieving face to Castiel and tapped him on the chest with the back of his hand a few times. “We’re gonna be uncles!”

As Dean’s brain stopped working and he could do nothing else but stand there with the biggest grin, he got pulled into another bear hug.

Long after their guests had left the house, all of them giddy from excitement, the happiness had worn off for Sam as he laid in the dark, Eileen fast asleep next to him. The hunter had a hard time finding any rest.

His thoughts revolved around one thing in particular: John Winchester. Sam was his father’s son after all, even if it pained him to admit it.

But it was true and that’s what worried him to no end. He’d been overjoyed to find out he was going to be a father, of course he was, but almost immediately anxiety had set in.

He didn’t know anything about children. How would he even know what to do? He’d never had much of an example of a good father to look up to except for Bobby, maybe. And even he had drunk enough alcohol to make most people pass out. And that was on a good day,

So how was a messed up guy like Sam going to raise a little child without screwing them up as well in the process?

He didn’t know what a good father even looked like, what the expectations were and how he would make sure the kid would be safe, healthy and happy. And speaking of safe – there were things out there that would try and hurt them and he wasn’t even talking about creepy dudes in white vans who offered free candy. Sam knew the kinds of thing that were out there, he knew the things that went bump in the night. How could he ever possibly hope to keep a kid safe without-

Light flooded the room as Eileen turned over to push his torso forward so Sam could tuck his head between his bent knees before she began rubbing slow circles into his back. Sam knew she was talking, heard her soothing voice trying to guide him through his panic but he couldn’t make out words over the fast drum of his heartbeat that echoed in his ears.

Sam made an effort to breathe in slowly through his nose, out through his mouth and after a couple more minutes, his breathing was close to normal again. He sank back into the pillows, bone tired now that the adrenaline left his body and gave Eileen an apologetic little smile.

“Sorry for waking you up,” he signed.

She waved it off. “It’s fine. Just tell me what’s wrong? I wanna help you.”

So Sam took a deep breath and explained all his worries and concerns to her.

Eileen listened without interrupting. Only when he grew quiet again did she slowly start to answer, keeping eye contact as she moved her hands so he could see the open honesty in her face. “Sam, I get where you’re coming from. I do, you’re not the only one terrified of messing up. This is a whole ass person that we’re adding to our family and they’re gonna be our responsibility. Ours to fuck up if we aren’t careful.

But that’s why we’ve got nine whole months to prepare for this. To learn how to be good parents and to learn how to raise this kid the best we can.

And I know this doesn’t take away all your worries but let me tell you something.

Your father might be a giant fucking asshole-“ Sam chuckled tiredly at her choice of words, finding that he agreed wholeheartedly. “But John Winchester isn’t the person who raised you. Dean did. And if you’re gonna be even half as devoted and dedicated and loving as him as a dad, which I know for a fact you will be? I think you’re gonna be alright.”

Sam nodded slowly, humming as he mused over her words. Objectively, he knew she was right. The fact that he was worrying about this kind of thing had to mean something in itself, right? He knew which mistakes he would have to avoid making and he knew what he’d have to change to be a good father.

The hunter slumped into Eileen and let her hold him, a funny sight, considering she was basically half his size.

Sam didn’t know what would happen but he knew he would try his damnedest to be the best freaking father this child could ask for.

* * *

Castiel had seen a lot of things in his millennia long lifetime. He’d watched dinosaurs hunt each other and eventually get wiped out, he’d watched the fish heave itself out of the water onto the beach, he’d seen the Tower of Babel fall, stood by helplessly as humans fought senseless war after war, had witnessed oceans rise and empires fall.

He’d seen a lot of things, is his point.

But watching Dean Winchester play with his baby niece was the most wonderful thing he’s ever been lucky enough to bear witness to.

To be perfectly honest, Castiel didn’t know what Dean was saying half the time. The high pitched voice humans adapted when talking to babies was not one of the very many languages he spoke. But it didn’t matter. Seeing the hunter sit on the floor, legs stretched out to either side and roll the bright blue plastic ball to Little Maura lying on the soft carpet two feet in front of him for her to catch it with the most excited of giggles and clumsily attempt to roll it back while he cheered her on was adorable.

And Dean could do it for hours on end, too. It seemed he couldn’t get enough from his niece. Sam and Eileen of course took full advantage of the fact, giving them a call anytime they were due for some alone time. Dean didn’t mind. In fact, the one time Sam had dared to try and hire an actual babysitter for money, the hunter had shown up red faced and thrown the poor teenage girl out of the house. Castiel had quickly gone after her to pay her the full amount for her – now unneeded – services. And then some for compensation.

Around 6pm Castiel took the miniature Impala Dean and Maura were pushing around on the floor from their hands, causing both of them to let out whines that were eerily similar. “You have to go to bed now, sweetheart.”

Castiel picked up Maura, supporting her head the way Dean had showed him early on and brought her upstairs to put her to bed, the hunter always following and watching. Castiel knew it wasn’t personal, so he wasn’t offended. It wasn’t like Dean didn’t trust him with their niece; he was just naturally suspicious of anyone that wasn’t him. Hell, he’d outright yelled at Sam when Maura’s milk was just a tad too hot, and she was _his_ daughter.

When Maura didn’t stop fussing around, Dean picked her back up and walked around the room in slow circles, bobbing her up and down on his arm. Castiel heard him murmur something and when he stepped closer, he realized he was humming. “ _And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain, don’t carry the world upon your shoulders_.”

Eventually, Maura fell asleep in her uncle’s arms and Dean laid her into her crib gently. As he straightened back up he noticed Castiel stare at him and blushed all over his face. “Shut up.”

He grabbed his angel’s elbow and led them out the door, leaving it ajar, making the yellow sign swing that hung from the wood, proudly declaring this room belonged to Maura Lillian – a name Sam had suggested and made Eileen cry in the process, consisting of the two mother figures that got taken from her far too early.

Sitting down on the back porch, Dean stared at the little screen of the baby monitor he’d grabbed from the side table that showed the little girl and started talking, a far away look in his eyes, “One of the only memories I have of Mom before she died – well, before she died the first time, when I was four – is her singing me a lullaby every night.” Dean scrunched up his nose. “It wasn’t a lullaby, really. It was _Hey Jude_ by the Beatles. Was her favourite song by them. Put me right to sleep, every time.” He shook his head as he chuckled a little. “Huh. You know, one time when Dad wasn’t as awful as usual – when he was actually sober for once – he told me Mom used to say that angels were watching over me.” Dean smiled at Castiel lovingly. “She was talking about some crappy little porcelain angel she’d picked up from a garage sale but I guess in the end, she turned out to be right after all.”

At that, his angel pulled him into a deep kiss that only got interrupted by Maura waking up. Dean got up quickly to check on her and when he came back with two steaming mugs, he had a blanket tucked under his arm that he threw over them both as he snuggled up next to Castiel on the garden bench. Only because there was a cold breeze and they had to share body heat, of course.

They sat and watched in silence as the sun set over the trees, painting the sky in beautiful oranges, reds and pinks.

* * *

The day Dean Winchester’s soul left this plane of existence for good, it was in calm silence.

His death was a peaceful one, gone in his sleep without any pain.

No hunt gone wrong, no Gods pissed off.

Simply old age finally catching up to him.

It’s the end he never believed he would get but the one he had found himself longing for as the years had gone by.

Not longing for death itself, don’t get him wrong, he’d left that wish behind long ago.

But longing for death to not come anytime soon.

When Castiel woke up next to Dean’s unnaturally still body a gentle smile found its way onto his face. He kissed his cooling forehead and whispered, “I’ll be there soon, Dean. Wait for me.”

He knew Dean could hear him. The hunter had promised time and time again that he’d stall whatever reaper was showing up to accompany him to Heaven long enough to make sure Castiel was okay.

His phrasing always suggested he was joking but his tone made sure there was no doubt in Castiel’s mind that he meant every word of it.

Looking around the room, the former angel tried to pinpoint any shift of energy.

Of course it was a wasted effort; he was still human.

The thought that had once filled him with sorrow and grief now just left behind contentment. He wouldn’t have traded these years filled with Dean’s love for anything, not even his wings.

Unknown to the man sitting on the bed with a faraway look in his eyes, hand resting on the spot where just hours before, his heartbeat lived, Dean Winchester nodded to the reaper standing next to him, a loving smile on his face. “He’ll be fine now.”

A second later they were gone.

Eventually Castiel got up. Opening the closet, he hesitated a moment before pulling Dean’s favourite flannel from a hanger – green and blue. Castiel didn’t know why he’d liked it so much; every time he had asked, the hunter would simply grin and kiss Castiel’s nose, chuckling at the way it would scrunch up in irritation.

After he got dressed Castiel pushed aside all the shirts hanging on the rack to find the box he knew hid in the back corner. Kneeling on the ground he took the lid off and pulled out the old trench coat that sat neatly folded in there, kept safe from dust and moths for years.

Putting the carton back, he slipped his arms into the sleeves and sighed with relief.

He hadn’t worn the thing in ages, having found that there was a reason Sam and Dean had favoured jeans and plaid shirts over anything remotely dressy. Moving around in a stiff suit and a long coat had its disadvantages both while hunting monsters and living everyday life.

But donning the coat now, feeling the tan fabric where he’d pushed the sleeves up, he felt an odd comfort he wouldn’t have understood back when he was still an angel. _It’s just a piece of clothing_ , he’d have wondered. _A way for humans to not drown in the strange shame they would feel if they were to run around naked._

Now, he knew clothes could have a soothing effect on people. Maybe it wasn’t the clothing itself but the familiarity that came with garments you’ve worn a hundred times, remembering both good and bad things that happened while wearing them.

Knowing exactly what the fabric felt like, how it fit.

After all, Castiel did have a thing for wearing the shirts that Dean had worn so often that the fibers had gotten used to his body; that had been washed and dried countless times and had come out of the machines softer each time.

Shaking the musings out of his head, Castiel stood up. He pressed a last kiss to each of Dean’s closed eyelids before he left the room.

He had work to do.

The wooden steps creaked in tune with his knees as Castiel climbed them. He kept his eyes on the cracked yellow paint of the door as he waited for someone to answer his knocks.

This was his first stop and it was the hardest. He didn’t even know what he was going to say. The way over was too quick to figure it out; the brothers had insisted to move into the same neighbourhood all those years ago. Naturally Dean had insisted it had been so he could go see his beloved niece anytime he wanted but Castiel had just smiled gently at him. Sam was still his little brother and being far away from him just wasn’t something that came easy for him.

In the end, Castiel didn’t have to worry about the exact words he would choose.

Sam opened the door, took one look at the former angel’s face and nodded in understanding.

There was a tight embrace, there were tears, there were watery smiles.

But none of them mentioned any desperate actions, any deals or divine interventions.

This time, they knew it was right.

Before Castiel left again – he had several other people to inform, Sam just had to be the first stop – he handed Sam a letter.

“Dean, he… When he realized he didn’t have all that much time left, he wrote down what he needed you to know and made me promise I’d give it to you after he was gone.”

Sam stared at the envelope, focused on his name written on it in Dean’s handwriting – all caps and the A looking vaguely like pentagrams, something that he’d always done subconsciously out of a habit of drawing the symbol way too often.

His vision blurred around the edges and he took a deep breath before taking the letter.

“Thanks, Cas.” He rubbed at his eyes with his other hand and looked at his best friend hesitantly. “You’ll be at the funeral … Right?”

Castiel’s eyes laid on Sam but his gaze felt like it went through him. It took him a long second to reply, “I’ll be there. We’ll send him off together.”

Sam didn’t question the ‘After that, though…’ that went unspoken. He understood.

Castiel left soon after, mumbling something about having to inform Charlie and her wife Stevie.

* * *

Hiya, Sammy.

If you’re reading this, I’m dead.

Hah, I’ve always wanted to do that.

Been a while since one of us died, hasn’t it? … How fucked up have our lives been that that sentence even makes sense?

You know, I’ve always wondered how my life would have turned out if I hadn’t picked you up at Stanford that day when Dad hadn’t come back from his hunting trip. I must have stood outside your dorm for hours. Because I didn’t know what you would say. I thought you’d tell me to get lost. Or get dead. I honestly don’t know what I would have done. I was so scared, Sammy. At that point, it had always been you and me.

But every time I start imagining what would have happened if you hadn’t come with me or if I’d chickened out before even knocking … I can’t come to any conclusion.

I mean, yeah, what happened after that? Whole lotta bullshit there, I gotta say. I mean the crap that was thrown our way? God, it’s ridiculous. The things we’ve fought, the fucked up things that happened to us? We’ve put up with – man, you remember when those guys stole that rabbit foot out of Dad’s storage? I mean, hell, what a day. Won the lottery, lost the lottery. You lost your shoe that day, didn’t you?

Or that time we got called on an evil Santa. That stuff just doesn’t happen. I mean, it actually doesn’t, it was some Pagan douchebags, but still.

There were fairies and leprechauns and ghosts that just wanted a birthday party and geeky shapeshifters that watched too many monster movies and vamps that went after Twilight fans – though I can’t really argue with that one – and the Wicked Bitch of the West and honestly every time we ran into Gabriel before we found out that he wasn’t a trickster. And afterwards, too, really. What a weird fucking guy, even for an angel.

And all the alternate universes we’ve gotten thrown in? I mean, hell, remember that time Balthazar zapped us into the TV set of Supernatural? The books and the conventions were bad enough but that? I still have nightmares about that. What was Cas’ name there? Misha? Dude, come on. Nobody’s called _Misha_.

But seriously, Sam. We’ve been through so much pain and hurt and death and lost everyone and got some people back only to lose them again. We’ve been killed- I don’t even know how many times. But we’ve always come back. We’ve fought each other and lied to each other and parted ways so many times. But we’ve always found our way back.

And I would change a lot of it now that I’m older and smarter- Hey, stop laughing, I did get smarter! I would change a lot of it if it meant getting those people back, saving even just one more person.

But I know I can’t and all in all, I think we did good.

I’m proud of you, Sam. I’m proud of us. We’ve gotten forced into this so young, we’ve never had a real shot at living a normal life. Saving people, hunting things. That’s all there was.

We weren’t even supposed to find happiness in this lifetime. I know I thought for a long time that I didn’t _deserve_ any happiness, let alone that I could find it.

But, Sammy, I did. We did. When I look at you, Eileen at your side and little Maura growing up so beautiful and smart and kindhearted, I sometimes imagine the kid storming out of the motel room and yelling about wanting a normal life. Wanting out. Sam, you’ve done it. Well, normal might be a little exaggerated but happy? Now that, that you have accomplished. I can see that when you look at the little family you’ve built for yourself.

Hell, I can see that when I look in the mirror. I’ve never once let myself dream of achieving any semblance of contentment. You know I’ve always thought I’d go out swinging. In one apocalypse or the other, in a vampire nest, fighting against demons or angels I pissed off.

And for the longest time, I was okay with that. Butch and Sundance. I was fine with it.

But then we’ve found family. We’ve met Cas and we’ve met Eileen and we’ve met Jack.

And I’ve found that there was more to life than just sacrificing myself for the rest of humanity. That I could save people and not want to die.

I never would’ve figured all that out if I didn’t pull myself together and break into your dorm.

If you didn’t come and help me find Dad.

So thank you, Sam. Thank you for joining me on my journey to find happiness. Never could’ve done so without you, baby brother.

Now, I know you’ll be sad. I know this’ll be hard for you. But you have a wonderful woman at your side who is gonna help you through this and you have a beautiful daughter who needs her dad and you’ll keep fighting, Sammy. You always keep fighting.

Because you’re smart. You’re strong. You always have been and you always will be. I’ve always looked up to you because you’ve always had faith. Not in God, I mean, he fucked that up six ways to Sunday. But you’ve always had faith that we would find a way to get through whatever apocalyptic shit we were going through.

And every single time, you were right. And every time, I was so damn proud of you because you’ve dragged me with you, even when I had no hope left at all.

We had one hell of a ride, man.

We’ll see each other again soon but you better not be barging into heaven too soon, you hear me? You go and you live your life and I’ll be there with you, every step of the way.

Sammy, I love you. Go kick it in the ass.

~~Goodbye~~

See you later, bitch.

Dean

When he reached the end of the letter, several spots of ink had bled over the paper, splotches of tears turning words into dark blue puddles.

Despite the sorrow clearly written on Sam’s face for all the world to see, he smiled. “See ya, jerk.”

* * *

As the lighter got thrown into the wooden logs, a somber silence laid heavily over the crowd that had amassed.

No one uttered a word whilst the flames slowly started licking at the body of Dean Winchester, wrapped carefully in white sheets.

Hunters and those who had retired from it; strangers who had heard about the death of the man who had become an urban legend amongst the new generation of hunters, someone they told stories about in dive bars and came to pay their respect to the man who had averted not just one apocalypse; friends and family of Dean.

Dozens of people had assembled to send the man who had saved the world more times than they could count off into the afterlife.

They all watched on solemnly while the fire consumed the body of the legend they had all come to love.

Gary Busey had died a long time ago so Sam wasn’t able to honor that wish but they did hire a choir. They had looked at him incredulously when he’d suggested they’d sing Black Sabbath’s _Solitude_ and _Planet Caravan_ at the funeral but after discussing it for a long while –and bribing them with a not insignificant amount of money – they’d finally agreed.

As Sam stood next to Eileen and Maura, his face wet with tears and the fire reflecting red and orange in his eyes, he looked around the clearing.

Many faces he had never seen before, some of them people that had told Sam they’d known Dean from cases he’d worked alone, a long time ago; but mostly it was just hunters that wanted to honor his brother.

In the first rows closest to the pyre however, familiar faces mourned Dean Winchester’s death.

Across the fire Sam could see Charlie and Stevie, hugging each other close. Other Apocalypse World refugees were watching close by.

Jody and Donna, both arm in arm, silent tears running down their faces stood a couple of feet away.

Next to them, Claire and Kaia held hands, both with unreadable expressions on their faces. White knuckles however were jutting out of Claire’s fist, clearly hurting Kaia’s hand but she held on for dear life for her girlfriend.

Alex and Patience had come as well, huddling together for warmth in the cold November air.

Letting his gaze wander further Sam could see Garth hugging his wife Bess to his chest, one hand in Gertie’s hair who in turn held little Sam’s hand. Well, ‘little’ was relative now. Sam and Cas Fitzgerald had aged like all of them and were both in their Thirties now.

Even Becky had made the journey out and fiddled around with her necklace while biting her lip as her eyes shone with tears.

Sam didn’t recognize too many of them – it had been a long time and most of them he’d only met once before – but a lot of the guests were people he and Dean had saved over the years. Most hadn’t kept in contact but somehow the news of Dean Winchester’s death – for real, this time – had travelled far and fast. Sam recognized Cesar Cuevas, wondering briefly what had happened to his husband, Jesse, and the Barnes twins, Alicia and Max. An unfamiliar man stood close to Max, a hand on the small of his back.

A squeeze of his hand made Sam look over to Eileen. She signed, “Are you alright?” and he nodded, squeezing her hand back and pressing a kiss into her hair.

Their daughter looked over at them and gave them both a sad little smile they both returned.

Next to Maura, a few feet away, Castiel was standing alone.

Whereas everyone who had come to attend the hunter’s funeral had a look of grief, sorrow, sadness or melancholy about them, Castiel looked onto the pyre with a soft smile. It was wistful and blissful at the same time, which shouldn’t have been possible, but Castiel had always been good at doing the unthinkable.

When their eyes met, Sam smiled at him knowingly.

The day before the funeral, Sam had driven his brother’s Impala to the bunker for the first time in years. He’d huffed a laugh. He drove the car they’d called home for all of their childhood and longer, to the place they’d call home for years to come after that. The thought felt reassuring.

Sam had made sure the lights were all turning on, had mopped up the dust and pulled off the sheets they’d thrown over the furniture a long time ago. He’d stocked the massive fridge in the kitchen with beer and filled the shelves with whiskey.

For a long while after that, he’d sat alone at the table in the library, nursing a beer and staring at the names carved into the wood.

At present time the bunker was filled with people. They’d all come here after the funeral had finished, all eager to get into the warmth.

Everyone sat around the war table, some in the chairs, some on the map table, some on the steps into the library and some on the floor.

A drink in their hands, everyone shared stories of Dean. How he’d killed Hitler, how he’d killed Death – twice. How they’d defeated one God and raised the other. How he’d run head first into any kind of danger and only thought about the consequences afterwards. How proud he’d be at the ridiculous jokes he’d make.

How he’d sacrifice himself for everyone, even and especially for people he’d never met before.

How he’d deserved so much better than he’d gotten and how at last he’d gotten what he deserved.

As the alcohol flowed, so did the stories.

Eventually Sam stepped outside to get some fresh air. He’d moved out of the bunker so long ago that he’d forgotten how oppressive the windowless rooms could be, high ceilings or not.

He was surprised to find Castiel sitting on the hood of the Impala, looking up at the stars.

“Hey, Cas.” Sam got a smile in return. “How’re you doing, man?” He sat down cautiously next to his friend, almost as if Dean would jump out of the bushes to yell at him to be careful and “ _don’t mess up Baby’s paintjob with the buttons on your jeans!”_

Castiel looked over at him contemplating. “All day everyone has asked me that.” He lifted his head to look at the dark sky again. “People expect me to cry. They come up to me and are so careful with their questions, so quiet with their voices. I get their reasoning, obviously. The love of my life is dead.” He’d said it with such a dry voice that Sam had to laugh. Castiel went from powerful angel to capable human. He’d basically had to learn the basics of survival again but he’d never truly changed from the socially awkward angel he’d met decades ago.

He watched Sam’s amusement with a smile before he got serious again. “I know if I were a normal human I’d be devastated at the loss. I’d be beside myself with grieving. But I’m not. I know something most people don’t.”

“You know you’ll see him again,” Sam nodded with understanding. He was still mourning his brother but deep down he knew it would be okay. He knew they would meet again. He knew Dean was at peace. Not as the abstract concept most people talked about Heaven but he knew exactly where he was.

Castiel shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll have all of eternity to spend with him. I know we’ll be fine.”

Sam wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders and tipped his beer towards Castiel who picked his own up from where it sat next to him on the Impala’s hood and clinked the glass bottle against Sam’s.

“To Dean.” They both raised their beers in a salute and drank.

Sitting in comfortable silence for a moment, Sam watched Castiel. The former angel had seemed calm during their conversation but now he’d started wringing his hands together. Noticing what he was doing, he stopped and pushed his hands into the pockets of the old trench coat Sam hadn’t seen in forever.

Castiel opened his mouth as if to say something and closed it again after a second.

Sam decided to release him from his anguish. He squeezed his shoulder.

“You’re gonna go be with him, aren’t you?” It was phrased like a question, but really, it wasn’t. Sam had suspected it would come down to this.

Castiel looked over at him shocked for a second before he remembered that Sam had always been too intelligent for his own good and an apologetic smile formed on his lips. “I’ve been alive for millennia. Truthfully, I wouldn’t have been if not for Dean. I’ve died before but never as a human. Not permanently, anyway. I guess … I guess now I’m going to find out what happens next.”

Sam nodded. He understood.

Both wanted to say their goodbyes but neither knew exactly what to say. In the end, they decided to leave it to a tight hug none of them let go of for a long while, both hearing Dean shouting “ _Hey, no chick flick moments, remember_?” in their minds before parting with glassy eyes, smiles on their faces and the promise to see each other again in a better place.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Dean saw was dirty wooden panels on the back of a house. Interesting choice for Heaven.

As he went around the corner he paused, catching his reflection in a dusty window. Not a day older than 35, he thought, touching his own face almost reverently before winking at himself with a grin. _Celestial face lift. Awesome_.

When he finally rounded the building and came to a stop in front of it, a jingling sound made him turn around just in time to be pushed off balance and fall on his ass, a lapful of light haired, fluffy dog licking all over his face. “Hey, handsome! Knew you’d wait for me.”

Dean cuddled Miracle for a long moment before the dog decided he’d had his fill of attention for the moment and darted off. Standing up and dusting off his jeans, Dean looked at the spot he’d disappeared to inside the Roadhouse. _Huh, that was new_. Not the bar. Harvelle’s Roadhouse looked the same way it always had before it burned down. Grimy, run down and just the tiniest bit suspicious. The tiny flap at the bottom of the door was a new addition though.

“Hello, Dean.” The hunter jumped and almost fell back on his ass a second time today when all of a sudden Jack appeared next to him, hand raised in a wave, awkward as always.

“Jesus, Jack, warn a guy,” Dean grumbled before pulling the young God into a tight hug. “Don’t you think I haven’t noticed you dodgin’ family dinners the last couple months, buddy. Just ‘cause I’m dead doesn’t mean I can’t lecture you!”

Jack pulled back with an apologetic smile. “I know, I’m sorry about that. I was busy making sure everything here was ready for when the first of you arrived.” At Dean’s confused face, Jack added with a warm smile, “You and Sam and Cas. You deserve to rest happily. After everything you’ve done, it’s the least I can do.”

Years later and still not good with compliments, Dean rubbed at his neck and ignored the comment, opting instead to gesture around the dirty road they stood on. “So what memory is this? I remember the Roadhouse but it never had a doggy door.”

“It’s not.” Jack smiled, pride written on his face. “I made some changes around here. I removed all the walls between everyone’s heaven so people aren’t locked up in memories anymore. It just wasn’t right. Now everyone can be happy together.”

Dean just stared at Jack with an open mouth. He’d not expected this at all. He didn’t even know it was possible, to be honest. Before he could stop looking like a fish, Jack put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and lightly shoved him towards the bar’s entrance.

“Sam and Cas will be along soon enough. Time here … It moves differently. But you should head inside now. I think there’s some people waiting for you.”

With that, Jack was gone and Dean had nothing left to do but comply with what his adoptive son had said.

The moment the hunter set foot through the door, there were cheers. He was overwhelmed, barely knowing who to turn to first. The decision was taken from him when Bobby pushed up from his bar stool and pulled him into a hug. “Took ya long enough, son.”

Dean closed his eyes to hide the tears and held his uncle for a minute.

“Yeah, we didn’t necessarily want you to die but we did expect you one hell of a lot sooner than this,” came from behind the bar and Dean didn’t have to look up to know it was Ellen who spoke while drying a glass with a rag.

“Given your idiotic recklessness, of course,” added Jo next to her who was filling beer glasses from the tap and grinned at him over Bobby’s shoulder.

Dean finally pulled himself free, sat on one of the bar stools to hide his shaky legs and smiled as a beer bottle was placed in front of him. “Yeah, well, I guess I found something to stay alive for.”

“Ooh, you’re gonna have to tell me all the filthy details about that, handmaiden.”

Dean slid off his seat ungraciously and barrelled over to the small redhead – the _original_ redhead – squeezing her as tightly as he could. “Fuck, Charlie. I’ve missed you so damn much.”

He could feel her smile against his neck. “Me, too, nerd, but I’m suffocating. Uncle, I call Uncle!”

Letting her go with a watery laugh Dean leaned back against the counter. “So what do you guys get up to up here, now that anything goes?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. Plenty of mischief to manage still.” The impish glint in Charlie’s eyes promised Dean enough trouble to last a lifetime. Or eternity, he figured.

Then his eyes fell to the person sitting next to him at the bar, smiling at him but not wanting to interrupt. “Kevin? The hell’re you doin’ here?” Dean exclaimed with a happy laugh and pulled him off the stool into a hug.

Kevin smiled shyly. “Jack found me wandering around the planet and told me to come with him. He said he had to ‘right a few wrongs.’ Besides, I think Mom would’ve found a way to kill him if he didn’t.”

Dean threw his head back as he laughed. “Damn right. Linda Tran is a force to be reckoned with.”

Looking around the bar room, the hunter could see many familiar faces. Some he’d come to associate with the Roadhouse, some were more surprising. How Missouri and Rufus ended up playing pool together, he could understand. Except for the fact that, _Damn, Rufus, playing against a psychic’s really not the right move_ , Dean thought amused as the old hunter grumbled into his beard and slammed his cue onto the table, Missouri smiling innocently at him the whole while.

Seeing Kelly Kline in deep conversation with Charlie’s girlfriend Gilda however, was a whole other story. Nonetheless, he smiled at the picture. This really was Heaven.

Dean had just begun to catch the residents of Harvelle’s up on what had happened on Earth while they were shooting the shit up here, a crowd accumulating around his and Bobby’s table when suddenly the door swung open.

Shielding his eyes against the setting sun’s bright light that beamed right into his face, Dean could only make out the shadowed form of a person until the door closed again.

And then he was on his feet and across the room in two strides.

“Cas? What are you doin’ here? You were supposed to have years left!” Dean took his face in his hands but didn’t stop scowling.

Castiel simply smiled as he raised a hand to cup Dean’s jaw, running his fingers over his cheekbones. “I’ve been alone since the dawn of time, Dean. I want to spend eternity with you.”

The passionate kiss they shared in the entryway resulted in all the bar guests letting out Whoops. Or Charlie, Dean figured it was mostly Charlie who cheered them on.

“Finally got your head outta that ass, boy?” Dean didn’t have to turn his head to know that one was Bobby and simply raised his middle finger in his vague direction, never letting go of his angel.

Kelly lowered herself into the seat across from Dean and Castiel. She smiled warmly at them and put each of her hands over one of theirs where they rested on the table. “I need to thank you. The minute I arrived here, Jack welcomed me and I couldn’t believe what a beautiful person he has grown to be. From what he’s told me, that’s all thanks to you two and your brother.” Tears leaked out of her eyes and she didn’t bother to hide them. “You were there for him when I couldn’t and you did a wonderful job. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

Dean noticed that Castiel’s eyes shone from unshed tears and leaned over to Kelly. “I didn’t do a whole lot, honestly. It was all Cas. And maybe Sam, too. But really, Cas is the one you need to thank.” The hunter looked at his angel and a corner of his mouth quirked up. “Because he cared about Jack, we did. And rightfully so. Jack is awesome. He’s a great kid.”

After that, Dean left the two to catch up, feeling a bit like intruding on a conversation as he knew they’d had struck up a friendship back when Kelly was pregnant. So once again he sat at the bar when the door behind the counter burst open.

“Look who finally decided to show! Dean-o! How you been, dude?” Ash pulled him into a short hug over the bar top.

“Not as good as you, apparently.” Dean looked pointedly at Mildred striving out the back smirking.

She lowered herself into the seat next to him and stole his whiskey, throwing it back impressively fast. She smiled at him affectionately.

“What’re you doin’ with that hillbilly, Midred? You’re so out of his league.”

Ash just laughed as he moved around Jo and Ellen to make himself a drink.

“Well since you’re off the market I have to make do with what’s available.” Mildred winked at Ash who put a hand over his heart dramatically. “I’m wounded, Milly. Deadly wounded.”

The three of them laughed at his first class acting skills.

Dean leaned in close to the older lady. “So you’re allowed into his backroom, huh? Thought nobody’s allowed in there.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the innuendo.

“As I told you before, Dean. I don’t kiss and tell.” The effect of her reply was lost however when she gave him a devilish grin that answered everything he wanted to know. And more.

They sat together in comfortable silence for a while, content with just watching Ellen and Jo serve guests and strike up conversations with them before Mildred turned back to Dean with a warmhearted smile. “So tell me, Dean. That sunset we’ve talked about all those years ago. You ever get to see it?”

Dean chuckled softly, staring into the glass that had magically been filled with amber liquid again. Or maybe it was just Jo moving like a ninja. “I did. Cas and me, we’ve sat outside, blankets, some hot chocolate, the whole nine yards. And we’ve watched it, Mildred. We’ve watched the sunset and it was beautiful.” He stole a look at his angel where he laughed at something Kelly said. “It was beautiful.”

Sam and Eileen arrived in the Roadhouse together not long after. Dean understood what Jack had said about time moving differently now. It had only been a couple hours up here while apparently it’d been years on Earth. There was the typical Winchester Bro Hug that they usually reserved for when one of them came back from the dead. This time, Dean chuckled, it was the other way around. The both of them were quickly pulled into conversations, much like Dean and Castiel had earlier.

“John Winchester is in Heaven?” For the first time in decades, Dean was actually scared of Castiel. Bobby had just mentioned that Sam and Dean’s parents had a house quite a few miles away. Apparently they didn’t visit often and mostly kept to themselves. “I’m going over there to kick that bastard’s ass.”

Castiel actually made to stand up while Bobby and Sam looked at him encouragingly so Dean decided he had to be the voice of reason for once and tugged at Castiel’s elbow so he would sit back down. “Cas, Cas. He’s not worth it.”

Glaring at him, Castiel raised his voice. “He neglected and abused you your entire childhood, Dean! You and Sam!” He emphasized that last bit, knowing Dean would be more inclined to listen to him if he brought Sam up but the hunter swallowed his own anger for once.

“I know, Cas. I know. But it’s been years. Decades, even. I’m sure you’ll get your chance to get a punch in, we’ll be here for a while, after all. But you just got here, so just … Calm down for a second.”

The angel let himself be pulled into Dean’s side again, pouting and muttering something about that son of a bitch not belonging in Heaven all the while.

Pamela had stopped as she walked by and looked at him incredulously. “Dean Winchester, telling someone to not solve their problems with a fist? What the hell happened to you?”

Dean grinned at her, relieved when he felt Castiel relax against his side. “Guess I finally grew up.”

Dean looked around the room a while later, his arms around Castiel’s waist as his angel gestured with his hands while he told Ellen, Bobby and Pamela a story Dean was sure he’d heart a hundred times before. His attention was on the song playing out of the dusty old jukebox as he lowly hummed along into Castiel’s hair.

“There’ll be peace when you are done.” _Man, I love that song._

He couldn’t believe it. Decades of pain, heartbreak, sorrow, grief, betrayal, torture, loneliness.

Decades of not knowing what was going to come next, one monster worse and more terrifying than the next.

Decades of fighting the good fight, even if it killed them. Which it had, often enough.

Decades of trauma and Hell on Earth.

It was over.

It was finally over.

They did it. Everyone in this room, Dean’s entire family. They did it. Some had gotten out of the hunting business with their lives, some weren’t as fortunate. But they’d all managed to end up here. In this run down, messy little dive bar that to Dean still felt like home, even years and years after it was burned down to a crisp.

The pool table, the chipped bar counter, the scuffed up leather on the bar stools, the tables with offensive phrases and dicks scribbled all over the wood, the stale smell of beer in the air. None of it in particular meant home to Dean as much as the essence of the place did.

And the essence, he realized, wasn’t in the furnishings. Of course it wasn’t.

The essence transcended any physical place. The essence of his home had always been in the people surrounding him, filling up the seats and the cracks in his heart that he was left with after losing so many of them the first time round.

Castiel craned his neck to smile at Dean. Unprompted, he told him “I love you” in a low voice only meant for him.

Never one to pass up on a good pop culture reference, Dean smirked smugly at his angel and said, “I know.”

The fond eye roll made him smile even wider before he nuzzled his face into Castiel’s neck. Close to his ear, he relented. “I love you, too,” he whispered and felt Castiel’s cheeks move against his head as he smiled before he turned back to Ellen to answer the question Dean hadn’t even heard.

Dean picked up his head and looked over at Bobby who was watching him. “What’re you smilin’ about, son?” he asked, his beard hiding the smile Dean could hear in the familiar gruff voice.

“Just somethin’ someone wise told me once. ‘Family don’t end in blood,’ he said.”

There was a proud little glint in Bobby’s eyes. “Someone wise, huh?”

Dean shrugged. “Either that or it was the town drunk. Can’t remember.”

He winked at the best father figure he’d ever had in life before he turned back to taking in the place around him.

It really didn’t. End in blood, he meant. The people hiding out in the house somewhere in the near distance might have been his parents. They might have done what they called “the best they could” to raise him and his brother and be there for them. But it wasn’t enough.

Now, Dean had long since forgiven them – both of them – for it but he also knew that he and Sam had deserved better. They deserved a loving family, people who cared about them and accepted them the way they were. Flaws, issues and all. Who helped them if they needed them, no questions asked.

For a long time Dean had been sad, frustrated and angry that he hadn’t been allowed to have that.

Looking around the room now, he realized, he’d always had it. These were the people who loved him unconditionally, even if he was being a stubborn ass.

Maybe they didn’t have a family from the get go. Two brothers, unhealthily co-dependent but loving each other to pieces nonetheless and a neglective, deadbeat drunk for a father who drowned in his grief was all they’d had for a long time.

Slowly over the years however, their little family had grown. Somewhere along the way, without noticing, even while claiming that _No, getting attached wasn’t something they would do, it never ended well for anyone involved, ever_ , they found a family.

People who once had been their enemies but had unexpectedly become their allies, had become friends. Acquaintances who had casually crossed paths with them came to help when they’d asked – or even if they didn’t – and stayed at their sides.

Some had even died for them, not because they asked them to – they would never do that – but because they considered it worth it.

Some of them they’d unfortunately never see again because they weren’t able to come to this place but it didn’t make them any less important.

Some of them had a long time on Earth left before they’d join them.

They picked up people struggling to find their own kind and told them, _Here you go. This is your family now, if you want it._

As Dean stood in this room, low lights and musty smell of booze around him, his angel pressed to his chest and his brother smiling at him from across the room, his own love hanging off his arm, Dean realized it really was over.

The dark days of loneliness and self hatred were behind him. In front of him, shining as brightly as the laughter drowning out the music, there was only light and unknown eternity that for the first time instead of hanging heavily above him like Damocles’ sword, ready to fall and cut him to pieces, filled Dean with joyful anticipation as it made him excited for all that was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading this. i hope it's at the very least a bit better than what we got. feel free to yell at me about that finale, my finale or just in general.


End file.
